It was a lovely quiet Sunday morning, on 5 February 2006, when my life irrevocably changed in the blink of an eye. My husband and I were on our way to the shop when an emergency vehicle passed us with loud sirens and flashing lights. In my ignorance I said to my husband I wonder who died now. In the meantime the vehicle was on its way to the scene where my son Emile, 20, hanged himself during the Saturday night or early Sunday morning in a weeping willow tree in a park near our house. I will never forget those words I uttered. About a half an hour after we returned home children from the neighborhood called my youngest son to our gate. They informed him that a young man, who fit Emile’s description, committed suicide in the park. We quickly drove there. The area at the tree looked like a crime scene. Emergency and police vehicles and personnel were everywhere. The place where my son was lying was surrounded by police tape. I told the trauma officer I thought it could be my son. He led me to a body lying on the grass under the tree covered with an emergency blanket. I stood there looking at my son’s face in shock. It was like a dream, I could not believe my eyes. It couldn’t be true. I kept asking my husband if I was dreaming, it couldn’t be Emile lying there dead. Everything felt like a nightmare, the daylight was blinding and I heard a roaring noise in my head. The trauma officer spoke to us but I did not understand one word he was saying. We went home and I started phoning family and friends to tell them. Nobody believed me because I didn’t cry and told them in a matter of fact way that Emile hanged himself. The only thing that went around and around in my mind was: “It can’t be, it can’t be, my son can’t be dead. This is all a nightmare and I’m going to wake up any minute.” On the Sunday evening I returned to my senses and realized it was true. I never understood the meaning of keening, but that night I keened for hours and the weeks following Emile’s death. It felt as if I was going insane. My thoughts were in disarray and I felt anxious the whole time. The next day we had to go to the mortuary to identify him. It was the most horrid experience I ever had to go through. I could not believe he was lying dead on that cold slab of cement. It didn’t look like my beautiful son. My heart was torn into pieces and I felt like dying of a broken heart! Every day was a nightmare. A part of me died with my son on that fateful day and I couldn’t function in a normal way. I stayed in bed for weeks and all I could do was cry my heart out. Every night I was on the Internet for hours searching desperately for somewhere, where I could share this unbearable pain I was feeling. I phoned radio pulpit every day and told my story to Christian therapists over and over in the hope that someone could make it better for me. There was nothing in South Africa apart from The Compassionate Friends who helped me tremendously. There is no help for the unbearable pain a parent experience after the suicide of a child. Nobody out there understands what you are going through. There is nothing anybody can do or say to make you feel better. For months I ate almost nothing and didn’t cook or clean or did anything in the house. It felt as if I was all alone on earth. I couldn’t imagine a future without Emile. I couldn’t think properly or remember anything I did or said or what anybody else did or said. I didn’t remember anything that happened to me, I was on autopilot the whole time. The worst thing was that Emile didn’t leave a letter or anything to explain this to me. I searched everywhere like one possessed for anything that could explain why my son did this awful thing. I searched the area under the tree and in the tree for a clue. I scratched around in his clothes and searched every pocket and place for something to give me an idea why my son did this. The questions are still driving me insane. Why, what? What was wrong with my son I didn’t see? Was I so selfish and self centered I never realized there was something wrong with Emile? I still blame myself that I didn’t realize what was going on in his mind, what he was planning. What did I do wrong in his life, where did I fail as a parent?
I look at other parents with big sons and I can’t believe that Emile isn’t here any more. I didn’t just lose a son to suicide, but a friend. The sorrow and despair is indescribable, and if you don’t find yourself it that situation, you can never imagine what parents go through. I started an e-mail support group for parents who lost their children called Loving Arms. We share our heartache and support each other with encouragement and understanding.
Nobody understands this hell and they don’t know what to say to you. People in their ignorance say all kinds of stupid things to a parent in this situation. They say things like: “Your son committed suicide and that means his soul will never find rest, you have another child live for him now, you need to get over it now and carry on with your life”. And it does nothing to change the destruction in your mind it just adds to the pain and heartache. On more than one occasion I just wanted to scream out at them: “please just leave me alone, you have no idea what you are talking about. My son is dead and I don’t know why.” I was on a suicide mission of my own for months and landed in hospital after I tried to overdose with tranquilizers.
Nobody can come through this pain without any help. It is an emotional roller coaster ride and you never know how you are going to feel in the next moment. One minute you are in this deep dark hole of despair, and the next you feel so angry that this abominable thing could’ve happened to you. Then there are days when you feel quite calm. On other days all you can do is cry uncontrollably and feel as if you will never ever be normal again. My perception of life changed completely, and things that were important in the past don’t mean anything any more.
| John Hazard | March 21, 2012 |
John
| mary c cain | September 1, 2011 |
| Bernardine | June 24, 2011 |
| Lost Dad | May 13, 2011 |
Our son died one month ago. He was to graduate from college this Saturday. He received awards from the college. He had a great family. He was a perfectionist. He was very kind hearted, loved by all. Our son never brought his mother and I any grief. Our son died at home during spring break, we don't understand why. Tomorrow we have to pick up his award from the college and his diploma. We are only saying goodby for now!
My son, my friend and my hero!
| Grace | April 15, 2011 |
My son Jeremy (21 years old at the time)(a twin) took his life 1 year and 3 months ago 01-27-10. I am the one that found him. He placed a garbage bag over his beautiful face, feed lines from 2 helium tanks into it, taped it off and died. He was still living at home, he was in college to become a nurse anthesiologist and was working as a waiter at Red Lobster. I had got up early that morning and went to help his dad work. My husband dropped me off at home around 4pm that day. My youngest son was up and cleaning on the house. I asked him " Where is Jeremy?", he said, "Still sleeping." I don't know how I knew but that instant I knew he was gone. That short walk down the hallway seemed to take forever and my hand was shaking as I went to open his door. There was my baby spread across the bed like Jesus nailed to the cross with a big white balloon where his head should be.Jeremy started having panic attacks about three months befor his death. I finaly got him to go see a doctor who put him on xanax the second month. The thrid month he had lost alot of weight and was losing his hair and had other complaints like headaches, stiff neck, sexual problems. I told him to make another appointment and get his thyroid checked. Two days befor he died he told me he felt better. He said he prayed and God healed him. What I didnt know was that he quit school and work that week. The last day I saw him alive was a normal day. We watched tv, ate popcorn, joked around, I kissed him for the last time not even knowing it was the last time and he tilted his head like he always did, smiled and said "ummmm chewyyyyy". That was his special lil saying ummm chewyy and bouty. I miss hearing those words so damn much!
In his note he explained how he was killing his self and that it meant Good Death the way he was doing it. Because they tell people that there is no pain in dying that way (which isnt true) He was fighting during his last breath thats why his arms was out like that from gripping the sheets and his eyes were rolled back into his head) He said in his note that school and work was his triggers to anixeity. Then he told us what to do with his stuff and that was all. No emotion or show of love at all in his letter. That is so hard for me to understand because Jeremy was the most loving and caring person I knew, and we were so close to each other, more like a mother and daughter.
Now my days are haunted by his memory. Everyone says to let pictures and stuff comfort you, remember all the good times. I never had bad times with my son, all my memories are good ones but they hurt me to bad. I cant enjoy thinking about his smile it tears me to pieces. My body is never at rest I stay so tensed up without even realizing it and when I catch myself so tense I try to relax but I cant lossen my muscles. All motivation is gone from me. Everyone is lucky if I get one room in the house cleaned or a load of clothes washed. When I do try and have fun , go out to eat or something I'm just there. I feel like I'm done with life. I don't feel like there is anything else for me to do here. If theres nothing else for me to do here then why live in this torture of pain anymore. I keep going for my husband and other two sons but even that is wearing thin.
| Kathy | January 20, 2011 |
| Karen Lawson | August 23, 2010 |
I didn't believe my son when he would threaten to kill himself. We would tell him to stop talking like that.
At an early age 19-21, he drank alcohol too much then quit for at least 8 years. When he turned 30, I'm not sure what happened but he started drinking heavily. He had been on a good steady job. I'm sure the drinking was the cause of him being fired. From that point, he went downhill. Brent had always had mood swings. He would get angry; fly off; name call and then quickly be nice. I knew he was depressed, frustrated, impatient and restless. I took him to the doctor who said she believed he was bipolar. Of course medication wouldn't work because he wouldn't stay on it plus back then it was either zoloft or paxil and all that did was make one groggy.
Brent didn't live at home. He was out on his own from 18. He wanted it that way. He moved to L.A. at 19. Always loved L.A. but of course it was expensive. Back and forth to Phoenix where we live from L.A. to here. Brent is a briliant film script writer; this started back in his high school days. Approximately 10 years ago, he got acquainted with a producer/cameraman. They became good friends; he promised that one day if Brent kept on it, he would be able to produce one of his scripts. Time passed, Brent continued to "write" but was impatient, restless. He did work. His writing slowed way down and he and the producer hadn't talked in almost two years. ( I think )
Brent told me more than once that one day I would get "a call" and he would be dead. God, I did not believe him. But I did get "the call". I think I was in shock for about three months. I cried uncontrollably. Never in a million years did I believe he would jump from 200 feet to his death.
We talked almost daily but the day before he died we had not talked. My husband and I had just made a major move that week end; we were busy plus I was working. I spoke with him on Monday evening, no visit on Tuesday. Later I saw his number on my cell phone but no message. And Wednesday, it was too late. He was in Las Vegas and we live in Phoenix. The coroners office said he would be released to the Funeral Home by Friday. We drove to Vegas---second worst day of my life. I wanted him to get up and stop fooling around. Get up Brent.
The following Friday, we drove back to Vegas and brought my son home in an urn. He's on my desk in my office. I am surrounded by pictures of him--all happy pictures.
I heard a song one day on my way to the cemetery called "Save a Place for me". Find it, listen to it. It will make you cry, but it can make you feel better. We purchased a granite bench with more places for me, my husband and Brent's sister Cristina. His death made us make arrangements.
Cristina and I have visited a Medium; we have another visit tomorrow. I'm anxious to go. It made us feel better. Brent is in a better place than where he was. He was tired, angry, frustrated, drinking way too much, not clear minded, sad, bewildered and on and on. He kept accusing me of not loving him but I knew he knew better. I loved Brent more than life. When he sees the toll this has taken on us; he knows for sure how much he is loved.
I am rambling. It's still more than I can absorb some days. I'm told it gets better but I don't believe that. I want him back and that won't happen.
I am a mother of a suicide victim and it makes me sick inside. We haven't reached any significant holidays yet; that will be another chapter. Brent's birthday is a month from today. 35
I can say I am grateful for those years and I will see him soon.
Karen--Brent's mom
| elie | June 21, 2010 |
| Rhonda | April 27, 2010 |
My son Talon never wanted to change his name, though I offered to do this for him many times in case he was being teased. He appeared happy with his Indian heritage throughout his 29 years of life. He loved hunting and fishing and he could hike with the best even though he suffered severe asthma since birth. I was having an asthma attack and he came early having one as well. God only knows if the lack of oxygen created his dyslexia. My son grew up battling with the view of the world that was backwards. I didn't even know until I saw his name written, only legible in the mirror. Little did I know then,,the struggle life would hand him.
Tal was one of four of my children; my last child. His father, after our divorce, never made any real attempts to be part of his life or the lives of his other three children, but he was very good at finding work under the table and avoiding child support. Raising four children, and one of them, him, very ill, on one pay check, forced us to live in projects. Tal was ten when he ran from the boys trying to beat him up around the waiting school bus, crossing the road was struck by a car. I will never forget the screeching sound I could hear from the house; the bang noise that followed. Somehow he bent metal but didn't break a bone. To this day buses are no longer allowed to pick up children from the opposite side of the road. I'll never know if this event caused him any damage, but I know that year,,his molestation by a Big Brother did..I was told the man would be arrested. He had been seen with several boys, yet I was told later,, years later, he was walking the streets.
My son spent 6 years with a girl; his childhood sweet heart. They never fought. Tal quit school after he and I could no longer stand the relentlessly violence inflicted on him at school and on the bus. Seeing him with one more bruise or black eye became unbearable. The school would do nothing. Instead he found himself a trade that didn't require alot of book work and was working six to seven days a week. He bought himself a brand new Eagle Talon car and was satisfied with working and getting things he needed to get on his feet and spending quiet time with his girl friend; someone that meant everything to him. Then his girlfriend, two years older than him, went to college. Then, after 6 years of being with him, she left him. He could not go to the bars with her friends from college after school. He didn't have the kinda of money some of her friends had. The day she told him she was leaving him because, "you have no social skills," he put his head through a plate glass window. From that point on, my quiet son went out of his way to learn "social skills."
I got married that year and left Tal, at his age of 19. He would stay at a friend's house. My new husband knew that I didn't want to leave him behind after he just put his head through a window; but the man said "It will build him charecter." I was in tears. Maybe, somewhere in my heart I knew, the next few years would change my son's life forever.
Tal became very depressed and lost his job. I didn't know until visitng one day that his new home was sleeping in an attic on a box spring at his friend's house. Without medical coverage he began to self medicate with alcohol. This, he felt, helped give him the courage to socialize. Tal took a side job cutting trees from a crane and he fell. His medication turned from alcohol to pain pills.
I was never told that after I got married and left he deliberately slammed his new car into a tree.
The next few years Tal would make friends; some of them the wrong kind of friends. He treated others better than he ever did himself. The night I got the phone call from the hospital, that he had tried to commit suicide, against the wishes of my new husband, I brought my son home. Even though my son was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and severe depression, my new husband did nothing but remind he every single day that his stay was temporary and he better get on hs feet, asap. He made my son's life hell and again, Tal tried to kill himself. It didn't even matter that my beloved husband saw my son try to stab himself repeatedly. I divorced my new husband that year.
You know what kind of friends you make when you go to these rehab clinics? You meet other people with drug problems and mental health issues. That's what began to happen to Tal. He met a girl who was fighting a heroin addiction and though the hospital knew Tal was not stable, (being medicated on so many drugs he was hardly able to speak) they released him. He walked barefoot to this girl's house. I wasn't informed he was there or that he had even been released. This is what happens when your child is no longer a minor. I didn't want him to stay there. He was not in his right mind. The girl began to call me for money and she was using it for drugs. I convinced Tal to come with me.
Throughout all this, I am trying to find a new place to live. I finally found this small apartment. The divorce was taking way to long to complete. Tal, was once again, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. No one would take us in because I had been foolish enough to tell the family about my son started using drugs. The divorce was a vicious and violent time of incredible harrassment, property damage and threats. I was falling apart and so was my son. He had met a girl another girl who, again, was going to attend college. Her father gave her money every week. She would come to see him and talk about other guys while Tal tried to find a job. I did not know, when I told Tal we would have to move out of state to get away from my ex-husband and his family, and leave this girl and this life behind, that he had tried at admit himself into two hospitals over fear of suicidal thoughts and both refused him. To this day I do not know why. I didn't move right away in order to continue with my lawyer.
Tal tried to work for a landscaping company. It didn't require alot of reading. He had gone on assistance from the state for medical coverage, to pay for antidepressants and the other many medications they kept trying him on. He worked under the table for a few weeks, trying to see if he could function (his medications caused him to have tremors) and when pay day came, his boss was no where to be found. This kept happening and he became sick of the excuses. He got drunk with a friend and both desided to get paid by pawning equipment taken from the shop.
Shortly after that, he was arrested. He had no money on him. His friend was gone and even though all the equipment was located at the pawn shop and delivered to the police department, the day of court, all of it had just disappeared. My son and I would then spend the next two years trying to pay restitution. He was order to continue intensive outpatient treatment, see a probation officer and do community service. The next job he had gave him a pay check but fired him a few weeks later because he was taking too much time off to attend his court meetings and doctor's appointments. The justice system was actually inhibiting his ability to do what they asked of him.
He became so depressed that, once again, he tried to die. He ended up in another hospital, this time, begging for electroshock treatments because he heard,, they could make him forget and feel better. I was in agony for my son. I didn't want them sending electricity through my son's brain! He was released without ECT. They wanted to reserve that option if all else failed.
Tal didn't need to drink much that one day when he was arrested for DUI. He figured he could because of what he could do in the past. It took nothing to have alcohol react with his medications. Being on probation, it meant jail. Because he was on a suicide risk they put him in a padded room, no clothes, alone. By the time I was finally allowed to even know where he was he was almost catatonic; according to the pool nurse who was apologizing on the phone. By the time four months went by, Tal was skin and bones and shaking like a leaf. I had moved out of state to a friend's house and I took him to stay with us. Tal was lonely and met a girl who told me that she loved him more than anything in this entire world. She got pregnant and Tal was over joyed. He loved her and wanted to settle down, get married, have a baby. He was so excited when he told me that he felt I didn't have much of a life trying to take care of him and that settling down with a family would change all that. But his girlfriend acted very strange. She started asking me about the abortion pill. No one knew what was going on the day he went over her house. He yelled at her and did nothing more, yet she had him arrested for assault. I was there when he appeared in court over it. The girl requested a year restraining order on him and my son dropped to his knees crying, repeatedly saying, "what did I do wrong?" He sobbed uncontrollably. He tried to overdose with his meds shortly after that. IN the hospital he just kept saying don't let her kill my child. He texted her Merry Christmas,,months later, asking if it was a girl or a boy and she had him arrested again. He spent Christmas Eve in jail and even the guards felt sorry for him knowing that this message was all he did wrong. Tal tried to die again shorlty after I begged the court to tell this man, my son, if he was still a father. When she said that she miscarried, he knew, just as I did, that she had that abortion. Tal never took the ultrasound picture off his mirror of the baby from that day on. I did not know that I would only have my son for one more year.
The year Tal died everything was going well for him. He had gained weight. He had filed for disability but was trying to still find a way to function without it. He was an honor student attending a master welding program. He hadn't missed a day. He had made alot of friends. The instructor at the school had him assisting him with helping the other students. He quit cigarettes. He was making plans with another student to start their own welding business together when they completed the training. He was seeing a dentist and had a one-on-one therapist that he really liked. He wasn't living with anyone that was telling him he had to leave everyday. He was with me and a friend who treated him very well. I remember he was so, so proud of his welding projects, sharing them with me and bragging how strong the welds were. He was doing so well that he actually went on Halloween in costume, to counsel other young men at the rehab in the dangers of trying to self-medicate. He was fixing up a car for when his license would be restored, which was die any day. He had opened a bank account and did some work with a friend at his farm every weekend.... Then,, she came.
On the fourth of July. 2009, a girl he had never forgotten came to visit. I never saw Tal smile so much. As sson as she saw him, she asked him if he was seeing anyone else and he did the same.
Tal wanted to become a couple again and wanted nothing to even accidentally damage this. He was clean and stable on his medications, had found some way of controlling the hand tremors so he could weld and was bragging to this old friend how good he was doing. When she left the next day, Tal told all his new female friends that were hoping that they would become more than friends,, that he wanted to try to make this old relationship work out. Then Tal did the most terrible thing. He told this old female friend from out of state that he never really stopped loving her. From that point on he rang her phone repeatedly with no answer. Tal was now wondering what he did wrong. The two female friends, bpth RN's, who had hoped that Tal would get serious about them were now very angry. In fact, one was extremely angry and vengeful.
Tal had an argument the night he told this one RN that he just wanted to be friends. They had both attended a wedding of another friend and had been drinking. It was late when I came to the door of his room and he was talking about hurting himself; but it looked more like a argument and his way of saying honesty was worthless. I asked him if he was safe and suddenly he ran out the door with her after him. The next thing I knew, this RN was calling on the phone telling us that he would be staying at her house. I figured, "she's a RN. If anything is really wrong she'll know what to do." It was three in the morning when I heard them creep into his bedroom and all was quiet. The next morning, all sobered up and everything appeared normal. It wasn't. A few hours after the RN left, Tal tells me that she is no longer welcome in the house; that she had stolen his crisis medication. I asked he wanted to do something about it and he said no. Around noon, the other RN comes to visit as a friend and with her car parked in the yard, the other RN comes into the house without knocking and opens Tal's bedroom door demanding the few items she left in his room. The two are just sitting on the bed talking. He gives her the items and she leaves, only to show up 20 minutes later with a cop. There was no arrest but I would later learn, she had made a written complaint which, to this day, makes no sense. He didn't hurt her two days before, but he had assaulted her. I had told her she couldn't call 911 when Tal appeared suicidal, yet she gave no reason for not using her own cell phone. Again, Tal was on probation and could not afford trouble; especially trouble he never caused.
Tal had a new probation officer that week. The other he had retired. I remember this man complimenting me on the honors my son was getting and that I made sure he got to school everyday. I told him, Tal does the work, not I.. So I asked him the big question, "Is there any way that Tal could get the court to remove or modify the community service since Tal has problems reading and spends this time trying to study?" The man leans over and says, "He isn't doing the community service for the court, he is doing it for me." This man did not care that it could very well mean that Tal would most likely lose his honor role status and potentially fail his course. All that matter was, "appeasing, what appeared to be, just him." There was nothing I could say to Tal as we drove silent together in the car. This probation officer didn't care that Tal had problems with anxiety and depression. It was all about control and making him feel bad. The man didn't seem to know, Tal already felt bad.
It was July 16th, 2009 and I had tried to remind Tal that the decision on his disability claim was coming in just a week or so. With approval, he could pay off restitution, get his car repaired, maybe even get an apartment closer to his school. I noticed he had a paper from the court that he was going to fill out to try to modify the community service in spite of what the probation officer said. I noticed the new bank book. I noticed that he was talking about what color he was going to paint his car. He wasn't acting suicidal, but he did say to me, "I wish she never came over to visit", meaning the old girlfriend from the past. It hurt me to see the jar of neckles and dimes he intended to cash in. He needed time on his cell phone and as still calling her with no answer. He asked me to call her and I tried. I left an urgent message that day, that would be between her and I only, but she never called back. I remember giving him some money to get minutes for his phone and money for replacement medications that were taken from his room days before. He asked me to drop him off to see a friend and I told him he should really just come home.
That night I called his cell phone several times and he didn't answer. I figured he hadn't added time to his phone yet. I left messages saying I'd give him a ride. It was almost midnight when I saw his siloquette walking through the door. I remembered how relieved I was to see him. But I was exhausted. I had an operation pending and hadn't been feeling well. I wish I didn't take a Benadryl to help me fall asleep.
At 3am, I awoke feeling frantic and didn't know why. I had fallen asleep on the couch and went into the kitchen noticing Tal's light was on in his room. I looked in and saw peices of rope on the floor. It was July and I wanted to think that he had needed it for something in the screen house I had put up. Then I noticed the basement light was on and ran down to find all the lights on and more rope. Tal was no where to be found. I figured he must be in the screen house and grabbed a flashlight that would remain lit and headed out to the screen house near the back yard tree. There I found Tal. He originally appeared to be kneeling like he had gotten sick and I ran and tried to help him stand. He just fell back down. I didn't see the rope around his neck because his skin had swollen up around it. It was dark and I tried to lift him again and that is when I heard it. "I don't know where it came from or even if it was outloud, but I heard, "Your free" I suddenly began to scream "Who's Free? I don't want to be free! What do you mean by free?" Everything is pretty blank from there acceptt knowing that I ran to the house for help, screaming because I could get the rope off his neck. My son's cell phone was filled with messaes to different people he had called or texted, asking for help, to stop him from what he was thinking about doing. There were over 20 text messages,,"I am fighting but I am losing,, someone help me, I'm going to hurt myself," and more. The last one was to that girl from the past. It said, "Why do you hate me?" All the people he had called either thought he was kidding, didn't answer or couldn't leave to come over. He did not call me because he knew, I would hospitalize him like I had done in the past. When the autopsy results came back, they found no illegal drugs, a small amount of alcohol, just enough to give him the ability to do what he did and his zoloft. Though he had been given prescribed medications for crisis management, there were no signs of it in him. These were the meds missing from his room. To this day, neither the old girlfriend from the past or the RN that
posted a complaint with the police will write me and tell me exactly what happened to my son during that last week of his life. I never got to hear the voice messages because my other children grabbed the phone before I did and only they got to hear the words I was too in shock to hear.
I was told this....In a horribly desperate in pain voice, Tal told them that "Everything is gone. It is all a mess." What ever made my son hurt so bad was something that would effect all his plans; his schooling, his disability claim, his friendships,,everything. The only thing that could do that in one instance,,is jail...And since he was clean of drugs the only thing left is,,,a violation of probation , which like the girl that was pregnant that lied to get him out of her way, if the RN told him that she filed a paper against him for something he didn't do, to get him put away, it is true, that he would die rather than go back to prison. But this is speculation and I can only guess what I don't know. My life is in pieces and I do not understand how a girl who knew him from the past and his suicidality, who was attending college to learn mental health, counseling plus drug and alcohol rehabiltation could just hurt him and ignore my phone call or Tal's panic, or how an RN
could just ignore what she claims she saw and knew and not call 911 and how another RN he was last with, could not see the desperation and possibility of self-harm after he asked her not to leave him that night; that he was afraid to be alone,,,and none of these health professionals, I relied on, to know what to do,,didn't!
Since his death, my life has been filled with agonizing pictures, nightmares of what I saw that night and what I heard. I am driven to find answers and this week the RN that he claimed stle his medications is in the paper for trying to pass a forged prescription to a pharmacist. But this is little
resolve for me. My son won his disability case a week later, after two claims and so many suicide attempts that I could never understand how a judge could say he was not disabled. He received a paper in the mail that his license had been restored. His welding teacher showed up at the funeral and I learned that Tal was so far ahead in his class that he would have graduated within a two months time. It hurts to know my son was so close to being able to finally hae a place to live and
find some peace to his life. I learned through his friends that Tal would take his own money and buy blankets and things for the homeless people that lived in the woods behind the rehab center he attended. I learned he was fearless and stepped into to help a friend even if he would get hurt. I learned that he treated a girl like a million dollars. This is according to all that could talk to me and tell me the amazing stories that I never knew before. I do know two things for sure...Talon proved he had social skills. The other is this- Please don't hurt me..I'm on probation. When the criminal justice system starts looking for more rehabiltation and less penalty and punishment, maybe then, people like my son will be able to have a real future rather than never being able to leave their past.
| mary cozzello | October 17, 2009 |
my son wasn't depressed but was addicted to cocaine and the cocaine dealer was after him
and threated him and his family, and he toook his life with carbon monoxide. I just can't believe it
and my sister is fighting with me and thinks I should be over it, my x husband wouldn't let me
come to see him at the funeral home only for 1hr and a half and I had to pay 250.00.
I am so mad at him on top of everything else.....