A Year After

When God called my child to dwell with Him above, I sometimes question the wisdom of His love. For no heartaches compare with the death of my child who does so much to make my world seem wonderful and mild. -Unknown

A year ago my son passed away. It was a cold afternoon, and I was on my way home from work when his dad called me in a shaky, unstable voice he told me the shattering news: Enzo's gone, mommy. I went deaf after those words and my mind was completely numb. I rushed to the hospital praying for miracles, repeatedly reciting one prayer to another... please another year... day... hour... minute... or second with my dear Enzo. But the angel came ahead of us, we weren't given another year... day... hour... minute... nor second.

Enzo took his own life after suffering from (I don't know how many) years of pain. It’s so difficult to say that out loud, but I am not ashamed of it. My son was more than of his mental illness. On some days, I used to deflect questions about how he died because I don’t want to risk him being criticized and renounced his very existence. You see, losing my son was painful enough as it is. My family does not deserve the added weight of guilt and indignity on top of our sorrow. There is only so much a family can endure and withstand the tragic moment. Hence, before hypothesizing on my son's character, I want you to understand that he did not end his life to cause us pain but to end his own. It did not happen because he was weak or afraid. He bravely fought those dark and broken moments for many years that pulled him down. His actions were the result of the rage of depression and hopelessness, and the desperation to mute the pain.

We tried to find different ways to help him. His illness consumed so much of his strength, I am constantly afraid of what comes next. I remember dragging him out of the house thinking that maybe today's day out at the lake park, night walks in the neighborhood and after-walk coffee dates just might make him happy again. It breaks my heart because I can see him trying, faking his enthusiasm, and showing off his best to make me feel better instead of him being better. Every time we tried, we thought we're finally getting through. Unfortunately, no matter what we did, he kept getting sucked under. I felt helpless too after trying everything I could think of he was still detached so every night I end up in tears and surrender all to God. There were times I get so frustrated with his negativity that I would lose patience and take my anger out on him. We will not speak for a day or two but eventually, he'll just sit beside me and rest his head on my shoulder and everything will be fine.

Grief made me doubt and regret but I know in my heart that our family did everything we could to save Enzo. I honestly believe that he did not want to die but wanted to end this inscrutable pain. If only I could have taken his pain away... I never prayed for anything more desperately than that. Nevertheless, I do not want my son to be defined by his depression. I want those who knew him to keep the positive Enzo. I want him to be remembered for the kind of enthusiasm he brought to them, his sense of humor, and that infectious laughter that made everyone smile before depression took it away. I cannot allow his memory to be of sorrow and despair but to be filled with hope and joy. Indeed, Enzo was able to live a wonderful 16years. It may be short but he overflowed it with so much love, generosity, and service to God, his family and friends, and the community.

I decided to share Enzo's story not only to keep his memory alive but to show the importance of mental health awareness. Through his story, I hope people will learn to listen and understand when someone is hurting. I look forward to the day when mental illness will be treated in the same way as any other illness with urgency and severity so that no one will ever have to endure the pain of losing someone they love to suicide.