2# A bit about our story

Eight months ago I, as so many of whom fate is about to crash down upon, was oblivious to any coming tragedy, going about my busy life as a mother of four, ages 21, 16, 14 and 12, working as a part time college instructor at the local university, and occasionally working on my dream of become a writer. Oh! how innocent I was to true suffering. I never suspected that my shining star of a son was slowly falling into the depths of madness. A straight A student, who most years had perfect attendance, he had never once been in trouble at school. Compared to his more outgoing siblings, he was a quiet and subdued child. who prefered reading books to playing sports. He had tried out a couple of times for the basketball team, but didn't make it. Knowing, I thought his nature, I didn't think it had bothered him that much. And then it seems bits by bits things began to change. Looking back now I can see all the signs that I missed, but when you are in the middle of living a busy life, things slip by. My straight A junior began to get into some trouble. I caught him drinking in the summer and then smoking marijuana. Coming from the end of the hippie age and no innocent myself, I thought it was just a stage. After all, I reasoned, everyone needs to sow their wild oats. When things began to really get out of hand, we began punishing my son, grounding him, taking away his car, etc. He began to become someone I didn't know, agitated, angry, anxious. He finally told me that the reason that he was drinking was because he thought everyone was looking at him when he went out, and that he had started to have anxiety attacks. I took him to our family doctor who prescribed Zoloft - and he asked the question of the times "have you ever thought of hurting yourself or commiting suicide?" My son said no. Things improved for awhile, and then seemed to take a dire turn. He got suspended from school for drinking at a ballgame - it killed his grades and all his dreams of being the valdictorian. He said he didn't care - but deep down he did - he began to pull away from his friends - when I pressed him about it he said his anxiety had gotten worse. I took him back to the family doctor. He gave him Klonopin. It was Christmas and my son seemed happy - but later I realized that I was so busy I missed many signs - his smiles were a mask of the pain he felt inside. On January 4th 2005, his sister's 15th birthday he took his whole bottle of Kolonopin and anything else he could find in the cabinet, came and hugged us goodnight, said he loved us, and went to bed to die. If it wasn't for mother's intuition, or divine intervention, my son would have succeeded. To be con.