RICK

PHOTO BY RANDY BACON

RICK

“The Love and Help of Others”

Sometimes I think we forget how precious our children are and that they are a gift. Alison was our precious gift. I can still picture Alison when she was about two, with her hands on her hips and her chin protruding out. She was the proverbial strong-willed child.

At age 15, Alison crashed. It was March. I’ll never forget it. My wife called to tell me that Alison had come home from school and couldn’t go back. She was diagnosed with severe depression. We never really used the word suicide, but we knew that Alison could be suicidal because of the depression. We tried several medications to see if any would help with her depression, but we never really found the right one. So, her teen years were tough. She would get in the car some nights and go driving – her mom and I would wonder if she was coming home.

When Alison reached her twenties, she was doing much better. She had finally found some medications that worked. She attended a community college and did very well in school. With the ability to attend class, she achieved straight A’s and an EMS degree. She had found her niche and she loved it. During college she worked in the emergency unit and then after she graduated, she was hired by a paramedic service and worked on an ambulance…until the day she died. She was successful. She had her own car, her own home, a dog and a boyfriend. She was doing well.

Alison was a fixer, so she dated guys that needed fixed. She dated one young man who was a pilot on a B-1 bomber. He was a neat guy, but he had some issues and a strong ego that a pilot would have to have. That’s the kind of guy she dated. Aaron was a good looking, ex-marine that had a tough childhood. Aaron was hurting and needed “fixed”. Aaron broke up with her the day she died – it was too much for here to handle at that moment.

Alison died on a Sunday. The last time I saw her was the Wednesday prior when she came to have dinner with us. I was sitting on the couch watching TV when she came into the house and she said, “Hi dad”. Now I regret not getting up off the couch and giving her a hug and telling her how much I love her. Why didn’t I get up?

It’s that kind of things I regret now, the times I didn’t “get up off the couch”. I never took a spring break with my family because I was working. I wish I had now. I didn’t do those dates that dads need to do with their daughters. I wish I had now. I thought I didn’t have time but really, I just didn’t take the time for my daughter that I should have taken. I didn’t take time to get to know her like I should have. I regret not giving her the hugs she needed or tell her “I Love You” or “I’m proud of you”.

At the time of Alison’s death, she was just shy of her 28th birthday. She worked a 12-hour shift and was going to meet us at a party. When she didn’t show up at 3pm we weren’t alarmed – we knew she had a long shift. By 7pm we went to check on her. That’s when we found her. She had taken enough antidepressant to kill 2 people.

That night Aaron realized he had made a huge mistake too. He wept. Big guy. He wept in my arms and begged for forgiveness. We forgave him. We loved him. We tried to help him. Four months later Aaron took his life too. I wish I could say I saw it coming. We thought we had gotten through that stage.

The grief is going to stay with you. I’m not going to paint pretty pictures. Sometimes I’ll look at this photo of Alison and weep. Sometimes I’ll see an ambulance and weep. To this day I still look to see who’s driving the ambulance, which is bizarre since it’s been 12 years. I know she’s not driving it, but I still look. And that’s okay. Those times that I weep are okay. Those tears are just okay. I encourage folks to look around and remember the good they still have in their life and the people that love them dearly. One thing we cling to, the Lord promises we’ll see our Alison again one day.

To those who have lost loved ones, I can promise that there will be people that come along side of you that you never expected. Don’t try to do it alone. Get involved in a grief support group. Do that journey with others. It is painful. You need the love and help of others.