I don't know precisely how to tell the story of my son, how do I pack the emotion I feel into a few words, how do I show his heart and soul, my second born son. He lived on this earth for a short 14 years, 4 months and 10 days, what a privilege it was to have him, bright, beautiful, mischievous and in a hurry to experience everything life had to offer.
He was born on a cold February morning, he was what they called a compound presentation and should not have been able to be in such a hurry, he had one hand tucked under his chin and the other straight out in front of him, it was as if he was saying "look out world here I come". He had beautiful red blond hair and one of the nurses took him around the floor to show him off to everyone, I loved him with a fierceness only a mother can understand.
He was a beautiful little boy, fearless, in a hurry, he would do everything his older brother did and was smart, curious and impulsive, his exploits often ended with injuries, I began to think they were going to name a room for us at the local ER. He protected his older brother, fought with him and they loved each other not just as brothers but as friends.
He had lots of friends and he included everyone in his circle, he thought of others often before himself, he was charming, played hockey, and remained impulsive, he seemed oblivious to the fact he could be hurt. He was a typical teen, he tried smoking, drank a little and smoked pot to deal with the despair he hid from nearly everyone. Somewhere along the line he too became a victim of childhood sexual abuse, a fact he hid from everyone, he took the name of his abuser with him to his grave, I have suspicions as to the identity of his abuser but no proof.
He was typical in other ways as a suicidal teen, he told his friends of his increasing depression, his previous attempts, of his continued desire to end the pain of his heart. They were typical in that they did not tell anyone, the unwritten code of teens is that you don't break a confidence, the fear of losing a friend by telling overrides any thought that they would seriously die at their own hand.
In the days leading up to his death he must have felt that everything was piling up on him, he broke up with his girlfriend because he couldn't take being hit by her anymore, her sister retaliated by egging our house and by verbally abusing Colley, he got into a fight with a much older boy who he had thought was a friend. The night before he died I was scheduled to go to work, I didn't really want to go, I had a headache but wasn't really sick, I didn't have a foreboding, I just wanted to be with my family. I talked to him before I left, told him I loved him, that nothing he did would ever change that and I left not knowing that I had spoken to him for the last time.
Later that night I received a call from Lee, he had overheard a telephone call that had been made to Colley, some kid wanted him to get pot from another kids mother, as parents do he assumed the worst and Lee and Colley argued. For my boys I can get mad at them, yell, ground, whatever, and they hate it, but if their dad gets mad it is as if they are destroyed from the inside out, like the impact of the words leaves them barren, without hope. Lee had to be to work that night also, he didn't want to go but had to, I didn't want to stay at work but couldn't leave, my only desire was to hurry home to my son, to make everything better like I always did after a talk with their dad.
I pulled into my driveway opened my door and found a pool of blood placed so perfectly I would have thought it had been deliberately placed so that I would find it, my first thought was for our dog but with no evidence of paw prints my second thought was pure agony, Colley! I flew out of my car around to the other side of the trailer, I tried the door, it was locked, I pounded on the door, no one came, I don't know why but I never tried the second door of the trailer, or I would have found my son, my beautiful baby. My panic increased and I sprinted to the house, ran down the stairs and went to Colley's room, he wasn't there. I yelled, I looked behind me and saw a bloody rag, all I could think now was that the blood by my car was a message, Colley wanted me to find him and save him.
I ran up the stairs to my room, frantic to find the key to the trailer, I couldn't find it! I woke my oldest son who was sleeping in my bed and he grabbed the keys to my car and left to see if he could find his brother at one of his friends. I ran out the back door of the house, I had three of my little boys following me as I leaped onto the roof of the changing room of the pool, to see if my son was back there, both hope and fear rode on my shoulder, I was trying not to show how panicked I was, trying to reassure the other boys and get them to go inside. Where could he be! I ran down the street to his best friend Todd's house, pounding on the door, shaking, frantic, Todd's father opened the door, no Colley wasn't there, I yelled about the blood, turned and ran for home.
I remember thinking that I was going to feel silly when we found Colley whole and safe as I ran home again and yet the part of me that is a nurse knew there was too much blood and if he was alive he was critically ill. I ran to the house and called the police, Todd's dad showed up just as I hung up the phone, seeing his face I was sure he had found Colley, that my baby was dead, then I shut down, I would not believe that, God would not punish me by taking my son, I sat. Todd's dad had Todd come and get my four younger boys to protect them from what was to come.
I ignored the police when they came, Todd's dad went out to meet them, I didn't move again until I heard Lee drive up, I walked straight out to him, told him there was blood in the driveway, Colley was missing and we had to find him, I then turned around and walked back into my house, wondering only slightly as to why the police were standing around instead of looking for my son. A police officer followed Lee and I to the door, Lee had tried to rush past the officers to get to the trailer, already acknowledging what I would not. The officer who followed stood just inside the front screen door, he didn't even come in far enough to close it, I will never forget his next words, "Mr and Mrs Hanson it appears your son has committed suicide".
There is more I could tell you, how they turn your home into a crime scene, separate you to question, the total loss of control you feel, the utter blackness of despair, I wanted the rest of the world to stop, I wanted to rip my heart out of my chest, everything takes on an unreal quality like you are outside time. The pain of losing a child never goes away, it is the wound that leaves such a thick scar that just touching upon it causes pain, it gets softer as the years go by but it never fully heals. I am still broken, my family is still broken, we have learned to function in a different way but it is never the same.
Enough for Now.
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