That Dreadful Day

3/16/2024, the day that my life as I knew it ended. Before I continue, I would like to add that I’m going to be brutally honest and descriptive. If this is something that is going to be triggering for you, please stop reading here…

Unfortunately, since the day my son died, the entire day has played on repeat in my mind every day since. It’s comparable to a hamster in a wheel or running in place yet going nowhere. So many things happen mentally and physically when this kind of tragedy steps in. Your brain begins to unravel, and this giant puzzle with missing pieces begins to appear. There are hundreds of unanswered questions and an array of emotions that step in that you have never felt before. Losing a child is TERRIBLE, but for me, losing a child in this manner is fucking unimaginable, unfathomable, and straight-up gut-wrenching. It’s something that I never in a million lifetimes imagined happening to me.

My son, Dameon, was easy. He was quiet, obedient, loving, slow to anger in most situations, hardworking, just every good thing you can think of in a child/son/man. I like to credit my parenting for that, even though it may have just been luck. He was easy from the beginning, even as a baby. He never swore in front of me. He didn’t drink alcohol, he didn’t do drugs. He was athletic in every way, loved all sports, and excelled in football. I can remember all his high school games and feeling like I was on top of the world watching him play. Our whole family would go and just be in awe of his athleticism and skill. He truly was amazing in every way. If I had to think of bad things to say about him, there truly weren’t any. He was a typical teen; dirty, smelly room, hated to clean, procrastinated on homework and projects. Typical stuff.

I have my own theories on why my son took his life. I won’t get too much into that here because it does not serve me or the purpose of this story. I will say he was going through a tough time in life as a young adult. He had a baby that he adored and loved beyond measure and was struggling financially, as any young person does. I knew he was having a hard time, and I offered as much help with those situations as I was allowed to and could do within my means. I never pressured him and was always a listening ear when needed. I have always strived to be the mom I didn’t have. My mother had me when she was a teenager, and that came with a lot of immaturity and heartache. We are better now as we’ve grown up, but I vowed no matter how hard life was, I would be there, be consistent, provide stability, and an immense amount of love for my kids.

Dameon called me for every little inconvenience in his life. “Mom, I need a new tire,” “Mom, I need money for” whatever, “Mom, can I borrow your car?” Just whatever a child counts on their parents for, and I obliged his needs. Life is hard sometimes, especially now in this economy and day in general. I even paid his cell phone bill and would occasionally cash-app him money just to ease his load. I don’t mention that for recognition; I mention it to say if you’re still helping your young adult kids, GOOD, they still need us! There’s nothing wrong with it. Life will kick their ass enough.

I didn’t have the relationship I’d hoped to have with the mother of his child, so we didn’t talk much, sometimes at all. I hadn’t spoken to her since September of 2023 before she texted me on March 16th to tell me my son was missing. Initially, I wasn’t too much worried, though. I assumed they had a disagreement, and he was blowing off steam. I texted him and got no answer. I called his best friends, and they didn’t know where he was. I drove to every location I could think he might be, along with my baby daughter (21), oldest daughter (26), and two of his best friends. We were in three separate cars riding to every place we thought he could be. Eventually, my mom, middle daughter (23), and the mother of Dameon’s 1-year-old joined in the search. While we were anxiously scouring the neighborhood, my husband was trying to get a location on his phone. This whole time we were still not even considering that Dameon would be dead. I remember my husband saying, “We were just texting last night about the Bears trade; I’m sure he’s fine.” We were so hopeful. Dameon’s friend decided that maybe we should check the hospitals and decided to drive to the one closest. At that point, one hour into our search, I decided to alert the police and report him as a missing person. It was so unlike him not to respond to any of us. Again, still thinking maybe he was just angry and didn’t want to talk. At 3 PM on Saturday, my phone rang again. Hopeful that it was good news, I answered anxiously. It was the moment my life changed forever. “Mom, we found him,” a shocked, stammering voice on the other end. “Where?!” I screamed, still unable to understand the voice on the other end. “At the hospital in the back,” crying, shaky voices. “Is he alive?!!” I anxiously and unbelievably shouted. I couldn’t even believe I said it after the words left my mouth. “Nooooooo.” Immediately, I fell to the ground screaming. Screams I never knew existed, feeling like I was going to pass out. I yelled to my husband, “They found him, and I think he’s gone,” my husband falls to his knees in the front yard of our home. I’m catapulted into the car where my oldest daughter is driving like a NASCAR driver to get to our precious boy. The police pull us over and promptly let us go after explaining the circumstances. We arrive at the hospital parking lot, and I’m still convinced Dameon is alive and maybe in an exam room. He’s not. His car is in an empty space in the parking lot, doors locked, hands stiff, a single drip of blood down the side of his face, and a gun in the seat next to him. His upper body is slumped over but held up by the seatbelt, eyes closed, and then shock set in.

I never truly knew what being in shock felt like until that day. My mouth the driest it’s ever been from the screams, my heart pounding in my throat, my hands numb, my daughters panicked, shaking, screaming, crying, and falling apart right before my eyes. His best friends on the ground crying, holding their heads in their hands. Cries coming from every direction. What do I do? I’m helpless. He’s gone. I can’t help anyone, not even myself.

A day I will never forget. The days and weeks after were not any easier. Planning a funeral, pushing myself to get out of bed, endless visitors, funeral shopping. All this while slowly disassociating with life. Thoughts of, is this real? Is this my life? Did this really happen to me?

I will not lie; the days did not get any easier. The pain did not lessen. The crying did not let up. I just existed. A shell of a woman. Panic attacks every morning. Staying up until sometimes 4 AM because sleep was eluding me. I slept when my body had had enough. A place in time I never thought I would see. A very lonely and isolating existence, scouring my brain for signs I may have missed. Am I to blame? Did I not love him hard enough? A giant puzzle and a hundred missing pieces, filled with “what ifs.” What if I knew he was at his breaking point? What if I had gotten there sooner? What if he would’ve just come home? The truth is, though, his manner of death is no different than had he been hit by a Mack truck. What if I did know and got him help, and he still did it? What if I did get there sooner, and he still pulled the trigger in front of me? What if he did come home and decided to end his life in the room above mine? What if. I’ll never know, but what I do know is it doesn’t matter.

Dameon was 25. His whole life cut short by giant, yet temporary feelings that he thought he couldn’t escape. My life and the lives of my children and husband are different now. My perspective on everything and everyone is different now. I’m a different person changed in the matter of an instance. I’m still trying to find ways to be whole, but I know that’s not going to happen easily or quickly. I just have to learn to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. Try to find ways to make every day worth it and never let his memory die.

This place I now reside is isolating and has many ups and downs, but I’m here. Grief is like a roller coaster. I love my family and close friends harder now, and the universe knows I’m giving this life all I got. I made this page to honor Dameon and all the parents that are suffering through this unfathomable tragedy. If I can soothe one heartbroken person or help one person find the help they need, then it’s all worth it.

Love always,

Jennifer