ON SUICIDE

One year ago today was the worst day of my life.

I had worked the midnight shift. I came home, had breakfast and went to bed to try to get a few hours sleep before returning to work.

My house was almost always full, I had 4 children, a daughter-in-law and two granddaughters living with me. Most of the family had been out of the house the whole day, which was unusual. While I was sleeping my son Danny was the only one home with me.

Danny was diagnosed with Autism shortly after he started school. He was considered “High Functioning.” At 25 years old Dan worked on the loading docks for a large package delivery company. He started work at 1, but was always out of the house by 11 or 12 which got him to work at least a half hour sooner than he needed to be there. He took his job very seriously, even though he confided in me and others that he wished he had a better job, one with more responsibility.

By early afternoon the house was filling up again. My oldest son had returned from his errands, another son and my youngest daughter had just returned from a day at the beach with the granddaughters that live with me. My daughter was suspicious that Danny’s car was still in the driveway. She checked the house and finally went in the basement and saw a sight that can not be unseen.

Danny had hung himself. She screamed, “Help him, help him” or something to that effect.

The two other boys were down the stairs immediately. Her screams woke me up and I was down shortly after them. I found the two boys standing by a weight machine in the basement. They were looking down at Danny. There was no doubt he was dead. One of my sons is an experienced paramedic and was not helping him. There was nothing he could do for Danny and he knew it.

I felt I had to do something, I’m his father. I knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. My son’s body was cold, stiff and lifeless. I knew it would be. As a police officer I have seen many dead bodies. I have been called to many homes, and dealt with many families that were feeling as cold, as empty, as helpless as everyone in my home was feeling. As a police officer I would do just what the police officers who answered our 911 call did. As a paramedic/firefighter on these kinds of calls my son would do the same things the paramedics who answered our call did.

Kneeling beside my son I was thinking, “Why didn’t I wake up?” “Why didn’t I see the signs?” “Is there something I should have done differently?” and the many other things that, I guess, all parents who lose a child to suicide think.

I started to sort of re-enter the world. One son was calling 911. My daughter was calling her mother, my ex-wife who had been at the beach with them and lived close by. I tried to call in to work and did such a poor job of it that I had my Chief and Deputy Chief at my house quicker than they should have been. They were a big help, but they couldn’t do what I needed them to do. They couldn’t make this a nightmare I would wake up from.

Danny had been in counseling and was on medication for depression. My ex and I knew this was a possibility. We supported Danny the best we could. The kids did what they could to make him as happy as they could. He had been bullied in school and had a hard time making friends. He was finally starting to find a niche, it seemed. I was hoping the worst was behind him, was I blind? I still worried. I still asked what I could do for him. I still told him I loved him often.

On a regular basis I would ask Danny how things were going for him. Sometimes my questions would lead to a long conversation on an array of different topics. Sometimes I would get a shrug of the shoulders and a one word answer before he walked away. He was a young man. He didn’t act much different from the other children my ex-wife and I have raised.

Danny would never hurt us intentionally. The day of his death we did not find any note or hint of why this happened. Days later my ex and one of my daughters found a few binders with more than one note. The notes were both comforting and troubling. We were comforted by a line he put in all of the notes we found that read, “I know I was loved, I love all of you.”

This 60+ year old body had never seen a tattoo, but a family friend volunteered to do the job for us in honor of Danny. She was able to copy Danny’s message in his own handwriting so “I know I was loved” is on my right shoulder and “I love all of you” is on my left. The whole family got inked up in honor of Danny!

Today, one year after that terrible nightmare of a day. My family went to my son’s grave (A sentence no parent should have to recite). We said some prayers and shared some memories. Then we went to lunch and later went to my oldest daughter’s house and played scrabble (My ex-wife and I were teamed up and lost both games). 

We know that none of our lives will ever be the same. We are trying to inch towards whatever our new normal will be.

My new favorite charity is AFSP.ORG (American Foundation for Suicide Prevention 800-273-8255) if you need help please call them. I would hate to see any family suffer the loss of any family member. I pray everyday for my son and I pray every day for everyone and anyone who is as troubled as he was. Please reach out! If you are troubled and you think I could help leave me a message here (they will go privately to me) and I will do whatever I can for you.

 Every life is precious. I pray to God every day that Danny had realized how precious his life was!

Please leave a comment or thought.