It is another December and this year marks the 14th year since our oldest son Brett took his life. In some respects it seems like yesterday as I can still recall our youngest son’s voice on the phone that he found his brother in our gazebo. We were in Chicago at the time visiting our daughter. I thought, “found him in our gazebo”? Why wasn’t a doctor called? Did somebody harm him? Was this a mistake? Then the realization hit that he took his own life. How could that be? We had plans to have our Hanukah Party in a few days. Did he not want to be with his family? What was so terrible in his life that he chose to end it? What could we have done that might have saved him?
We got our things together, gathered our dogs, and headed back home. Our daughter and family would leave later in the day. The eight-and- a-half hour car ride seemed endless. There was no conversation, no radio, just the sound of my crying. We were greeted when we returned home by family, friends, and dinner. Food seems to be the denominator for making things better. I didn’t want to eat, talk, or be consoled. Basically, I wanted to be left alone to process this devastating realization. He was gone and I would never hear his “Hey, Mom.” I would never feel his touch, watch him grow older, see him interact with his brother and sisters, play with his niece or nephews, have a family of his own, and he would never see us as we grew older. Losing a child is out of sync with the universe. Parents are not supposed to see their children die before them. Click here to Continue reading Our Boy Brett | 
