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 hardest 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.
Sitting at my desk at work a few people are around at their desks, typically morning at Angie’s List. Phones sitting right next to me, as it usually is. I see that my husband is calling, which is not unusual when he is traveling. I knew instantly something was wrong, his voice was barley understandable. I at first thought he said that Hudson was in the hospital, so I responded as any mother would “which one I will go be with him until you can make it back” I thought he had attempted to harm himself again… then my husband uttered the most feared words a mother could hear “he is dead Jenna, Hudson is dead”.
Throughout the past 18 months I have written monthly chapters to update friends and family on where we are at mentally and physically with our pain. Some chapters are very personal and raw, some speak to those directly that have thoughts of suicide, and some are just a way for me to never forget. While I won't be sharing all 17 chapters with you, I have picked some that tell our story and will allow you to get to know what roll I played in Hudson's short life.