Six Months

Our mission is to save lives, it is what keeps us going, it is what keeps us grounded and it is what helps us the most.
— Jenna Scott, Project Hud;Son


6 months. Half a year. 26 weeks. 182 days. 4,368 hours no matter how you word it/think it that’s a really really long time. Being a suicide survivor is the single most difficult thing I have ever had to deal with. Hudson is the first thing I think of when I wake, he is the last thing I think of before falling asleep. Which is ironic because six months in and I have not had one dream, one vision or one sense of feeling that he is with me. It has taken 6 months for it to sink in, truly sink in. Sure, I have had moments where reality hit, but it has taken 6 months for that reality to not go away. I used to jam pack my day from the minute I got up to the minute I laid on the couch, literally every minute. Just Sunday I was cleaning and doing the dishes at nearly midnight. We can’t sit at home on the weekends… we have to be doing something. We have to keep our minds busy.

6 months is a long time. In 6 months’ time babies go from not rolling over to taking steps. From taking a bottle every 3 hours to only 3 times a day. They learn words, they laugh, and they crawl. I am sure that most moms could tell you when all those things happened or at least wrote them down. Our daughter is turning one in one month and I can’t tell you any dates where anything happened. How is that fair to her? She lost a brother she never got to know and because of that loss her mom nor dad can tell her when she got her first tooth or when she first crawled or the fact we should have started table food months ago and just this week did it dawn on us. You see suicide affects even the smallest of humans, Nora just 4 months old had her life turned upside down and the worst part… she doesn’t even know it yet.

6 months and my husband still has moments where he drops to his knees in pain and heartache. 6 months and our lives are nowhere near functional. Just last week was the first time we had been to the grocery store. Last week was the first week we didn’t eat out 7 nights. The simple things are the hardest. 6 months and there still sits his dirty clothes basket FULL of dirty clothes. 6 months and we still have never all sat at our kitchen table to eat. We are those parents who eat on the couch while our littles eat on the floor. This is coming from Wes and I who ate nearly every meal as a family at a table. I get so angry when people just assume we are doing ok, we aren’t.

We have learned who our true friends are. True in the meaning of going out of their day to talk with us, cook for us, hug us, cry with us, celebrate the good, and allow us to just show up because we can’t stand to be in our house, friends that understand just one comment can ruin our day. We have plenty of friends via social media and honestly there are days like today where that is the single thing that will get us through it.  Friends that start sharing just one single picture and it goes viral and we are reading posts that remind us we have people surrounding us today in love and support. So for our friends that have stuck with us during the last 6 months, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. To those that haven’t… I hope it’s because the pain is to strong and that you just don’t have the words. I hope that one day you will be able to explain why you haven’t been there for us. I hope that one day you will understand that by not saying anything hurts worse than just sending a simple thinking of you.

6 months and Kellen is still laying things out for Hudson to use/do in heaven. Just last night we walked into Hudson’s room before bed and there laid the guitar we just received Sunday. Every piece of anything we have Kellen has claimed. In our new house we have strict instructions that Hudson’s bed, dresser and any and all toys will go into Kellen’s new room. Not only has this ripped Wes and I hearts apart it has also ruined a 5 year old little boy’s perspective of life. He understands death and life and that each moment is a gift and at any moment you could lose your hero.

6 months and we are still those people. Our neighbors don’t talk to us, they don’t invite us over for summer events. 6 months and Wes still gets starred at like people have seen a ghost.

While today is horrible and the number 26 makes me sick to my stomach. The 27th is always the worst. The 27th is they day my oldest died and my youngest was born. The 27th is the day that I sat in this exact chair, with my phone to my left and my fingers on my keyboard that I go the worst phone I have EVER received.

6 months and here I sit in the same mind frame I was 6 months ago. Not being able to concentrate, can’t eat, can’t stop crying, can’t stop asking why, going from feeling sad to mad to a feeling that is indescribable.  

So to those friends that are reading this that have suffered from depression and suicidal thoughts, please please please know that you simply just don’t end your pain, but you pass that pain to each and every one that loves you. The pain never truly goes away. The only answer is to find what helps you, what inspires you to always continue. Ask for help, get help. Talk about it. Parents please I am begging you to ask direct questions. If you don’t know what to ask call us, we will ask for you. Just this past week Wes drove to talk with a young boy about some comments he had made to his dad. Our mission is to save lives, it is what keeps us going, it is what keeps us grounded and it is what helps us the most.