When Chad was born he quickly became the "apple of his Grandma and Grandpa's eye". Chad's father disappeared, not really disappeared but choose not to be a part of Chad's life shortly after his birth. After the initial shock, I knew I loved Chad enough that I could make up for what he didn't have in a father. I certainly lacked maturity, and had it not been for my parent's the 17 years I did have with Chad would've been impossible. Before I go any further, in case I never told you Mom and Dad, thank you!

I've gone over in my head time and time again, what happened. Chad was a very smart child. He walked and talked early. But even in the beginning he never excelled in school. I tried everything I knew to help him. By this time, I had married, and when I look back it was because I thought this was my only opportunity for a "real" family. The man I married showered me and Chad with attention and I believed he would be good to us both. Soon after I married another son, Nicholas came along. The man I married was far from good to any of us. He was unstable in every aspect of his life. This relationship continued on and off for 13 years.

I'm sure this unstable marriage didn't help Chad any. My parents maintained a close relationship with us, and Chad and I were always best of friends. His schoolwork as well as his behavior were always at issue. I look back now and I see he had the classic symptoms of ADD. He was labeled a "trouble maker" and every year we barely squeaked by. He was a great baseball player and a really good football player. I never took those things away from him, because I felt they truly boosted his self esteem. Whatever I had to do, I made sure he had the best clothes, the best shoes, the best of everything, again in an attempt to boost his self esteem. When he graduated from 8th grade, he was popular with a ton of friends, and was voted "best dressed". My best friend and I took him to Cancun for his graduation where we raced jet skies, swam and just in general had a good time. Regardless of what we did, Chad was restless and bored. Very little held his attention. The things that did seem to continually interest him were sort of thrill seeking, dangerous activities. I remember boating one time, and he saw a

bungi jumper, he was so enthralled by that he talked of it for months.

Chad's self esteem was almost non existent. This stemmed from a combination of the struggles in school, the rejection of his natural father, and the cruel behavior of my then husband. I ask myself over and over again, even prior to Chad's death why I stayed in such a horrible marriage. My ex was good though, he good at treating us all horribly and doing everything in grand style to make up for it.

I was struggling with horrible depression, and it took my very dear friend, Denise to see it and convince me to get help. Perhaps that's why I understood the depth of Chad's desparity, because I had felt it too. My depression was different than Chad's. I didn't want to live anymore, but didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Chad had a nervous energy, he was always searching for relief from the pain. I believe it's the difference between depression and manic depression. Chad had extreme highs and lows, where my depression was pretty constant. Living with someone or trying to help someone that suffers from manic depression is difficult. When you begin to see their lives improve, you feel they are "getting better", but unless they are on medication, the improvement is only temporary. Typically, as time goes on, the highs get higher and the lows get lower.

I was very lucky in the sense that, the first medication that I was put on for depression worked. Within one month of being put on Paxil, I left my husband and the boys and I started a new life. Chad was in his freshman year of high school, playing baseball, playing football and even thought of throwing shot in track. I thought, this kid is going to have 3 varsity letters. The grades weren't great, but he wasn't flunking anything. I got to the point that I quit nagging. I wonder if he ever thought that I just didn't care or if he understood that I was finally accepting him for what he was.

Somewhere between the end of freshman year and the beginning of sophmore year, Chad's life became complicated. He was playing football sophmore year, and even dressed varsity. My parents, Nicholas and I drove 4 hours to watch a game. We watched him play Jr. Varsity, and when he walked on the field in that varsity uniform, I cried like a baby. There weren't many more football games after that, Chad got suspended from the team for his grades. The coach did everything, offered tutors, but Chad simply didn't care. I don't doubt that this was because of his drug use. Depression and chemical depdency are a lethal combination. I often wonder which comes first. When I talk to Chad's friends now, they say that when they would all be drinking, Chad would occasionally isolate himself from everyone, and just get "ripped". My phone number was probably placed on speed dial at the high school, because Chad was forever skipping school, smoking on campus, in general, getting in trouble. Then he started running away. I see now it was a pattern. He never wanted to, and probably couldn't face any problems, he ran from everything. If I put pressure on him at home, he went to Grandma's, when that stopped working, he'd seek out his biological father. At one point even my ex-husband. I'm going to be very honest with you. I always wanted Chad to be safe, and until I was I knew that he was, I was sick with worry. But after that, it was sort of a relief. The roller coaster ride called "life" was taking its toll on me. I was worried about Nicholas because Chad would be aggressive with him, and I couldn't allow Nicholas to see Chad bringing drugs into the house. It would then be to the point that Chad would miss me and I would miss him, and he would come home.

We decided that Chad would go into drug treatment. What a fight with the insurance company to get him admitted as an impatient. He was finally admitted to one of the finest adolescent drug rehabilitation facilities in the country. I don't think it was a conscience choice that Chad was making to use drugs, it was more as if he was self-medicating. He simply wanted an escape, and drugs proved to provide that temporarily.

When Chad got out of rehab, it was really pointless to go back to school that year. It was not that big a deal to me, I just wanted him to be okay. I thought it best that we worked on "Chad", and I was hoping that if we removed him from this huge source of drugs, we may be more successful. I can be called a lot of things, naive however isn't one of them. Must admit that I was stunned at the amount and the type of drugs these kids were using.

Chad and I were always really honest with one another. Perhaps that was a mistake on my part. I should've been more his Mother and less his friend. He and I just had this mutual love for one another. It was fine for me to get mad at him, and for him to get mad at me, but never ever let anyone say anything bad about the other. As an example, for Christmas 96, Chad wanted a tattoo. You have to understand, Chad was basically a clean cut kid, loved sport all of his friends parents adored him. He was polite and considerate. He felt guilty if he didn't spend enough time with his Grandma or Grandpa. He was a son that any parent would be proud of, even throughout his problems. When he wanted this tattoo, I felt it was kind of a way of expressing himself. So off we went to the tattoo parlor. Four hours and $200.00 later, Chad had his Christmas gift. He loved telling his friends that it was his Christmas present from his Mom.

I could see Chad's depression coming in sort of waves. It's easy now to see that when he would become moody and isolate himself, he was struggling to maintain. He really tried to fight it off. He tried to play with his brother and help his Grandpa, but the depression would take its toll. I would sometimes get angry with him because he was so short tempered. I know now that he was really trying to fight through the clouds of depression.

He called me at work one day, it was early March. He said, Mom, I've got a problem", I said "What's wrong son?" "I tried to kill myself today", I raced home and found that he had injected himself with my Dad's insulin. I rushed him to the hospital one that I knew had a good adolescent psych unit. They admitted him immediately and started an IV because his blood sugar was dropping. He was under a constant suicide watch, and not very happy to be in that hospital. I tried to make it better by taking him to McDonalds every night after I got off of work. When he was sent to the adolescent unit he tried to participate in the groups. We went to our family counseling sessions, and the only two things Chad could focus on was the fact that his Dad didn't care about him, and he wanted out of that hospital.

To me, that was the beginning of the end. The logistics of the rest are really unimportant and are simply another source of pain. On June 11, 1997, I left for work like any other day. I received a message on my voice mail that I should call my sister's house right away. I knew from that something terrible had happened. My first thought was to erase it and not call, leave work and go as far a way as I could so they couldn't tell me what horrible thing had happened. It was a brief thought, but I had two children to take care of, that really wasn't an option. When I returned the call, my sister was screaming, she told me they police had found Chad in a car on an isolated road and he had shot himself. My first words were, "but he's okay, right?" I'll never forget the shrill of her voice, it was loud, clod and piercing. I ask myself if it was the words or her demeanor, I don't know probably both. She said, "No, he's dead!" I gently put down the phone and went to find my boss. I told her what happened, or at least what I knew of what happened. She remembers me being controlled and methodical. I'm very fortunate to have many friends. I was driven home to find my dear neigh boor, Donna sitting on the step talking with Nicholas. My first thought was if he had been told of his brother's death in the same way that I was. I later found that the police had come to my door looking for me, Donna convinced them to tell her what was wrong. She got Nick from the neigh boors where he had been playing and kept him with her until I got home.

The rest is sort of a daze. My brother and Chad's father identified him. Chad's dad said to me, "Did you know he had a tattoo", I simply responded, "Yes". The cause of death was a single gun shot wounds to the right temple. My brother said he had a tricle of blood on the bridge of his nose. Strange how a mother thinks, I've wondered ever since if they washed that off. No matter what, we want them clean. He was buried in a pair of his boxers and his baggy jean shorts and one of his favorite t shirts. The casket was closed. In some ways it helped in others it makes it harder to accept.

When I lost Chad, I lost half of the very best of me. In the morning, for one brief millisecond, I feel like everything is okay. Like I'm going to wake the boys for school. Then very quickly I'm forced into reality again.

As a means of survival, I remember Chad's beautiful life, not his untimely death. He shared my sarcastic wit, (poor kid). I remember waking one day last April and there was snow on the ground, he was sleeping, and I said "Oh my God", a sleepy voice came from the other room, "What'd you do, break a nail?" Chad, Nicholas and I were about love, even now, our hearts will forever be together.