Member-only story
Remembering The Boy He Was
The Aftermath of a Teenage Suicide
I sat in the car, wanting to do anything besides turn the car off and get out. A lump formed in my throat and tears filled my eyes as I watched a group of teenagers hug each other.
I shouldn’t have had to go. No one should have had to go. This shouldn’t have happened.
I took a deep breath and turned the key.
Following a group of people, my feet shuffled across the parking lot, my purse stuffed with tissues held tightly against my body. It took everything I had to keep it together when I greeted my friend.
Her strength amazes me, all the time. I couldn’t even imagine going through the devastating loss she went through. Nobody should have to bury a child. Nobody should ever have to remember seeing their child they way they found them.
As I held onto her trembling body as she silently sobbed on my shoulder, I about lost it when I glanced over and saw her youngest son sitting slouched on the floor with his head in his hands.
I helped my friend outside to get some fresh air for a moment. There was a group of her son’s friends out there talking.
“I called him the day before. Maybe I should have kept calling.”