On a Sunday afternoon in Jan. 2018, I found my son Sean hanged from a light fixture in his bedroom. He had just shared some funny videos with my husband and I before he went upstairs. My husband lost his first wife to suicide and has said he never saw a single sign of suicide. His sister came immediately after. She works for law enforcement. She went through every piece of paper in his room, all his things, and found nothing odd except his robe’s belt had weird knots that she recognized from her background. A few months earlier I noticed a mark on his neck. It wasn’t a hickey, but more like a rope burn. I talked to him about the choking game and stressed how dangerous it is. He told me it was from rough housing with friends.

I cry everyday. My mother cries everyday. We are all struggling to live and be happy because we know that’s what Sean would have wanted. I hope if anyone reads this is thinking about doing this, they think about the utter devastation their death will cause their family.

Sean had turned 17 only six weeks before he died. He was my only child and the only grandchild on both sides. The pain and devastation is beyond description. Sean should be graduating from high school next week; instead his remains are in an urn in his bedroom.