When Your Child Dies By Suicide

Looking for Meaning in The Details

It is 9/11 as I write this.

I did my dutiful job locating an image, putting together the words, and posting a remembrance on Facebook.

There are so many other 9/11 tributes online it seems like a “me too” post. But as a United Airlines employee at the time, it was significant and personal.

But something else is bugging me a lot more today. It’s an unopened envelope. I got home from a nine-day road trip yesterday, and it was waiting for me upon my return. Since it was from the Albany County, Wyoming coroner’s office, I knew exactly what was in the envelope.

I know the envelope will not answer the singular question of why. It doesn’t contain an exit interview.

If you’ve followed me at all, you know that my son died by suicide in December of 2019. (See Truths Part 3.) I’ve made mention of him in other stories, most notably 1 Year Without My Son. He was just 31.

I’m not sure why it took me so long to receive the final coroner’s report. My daughter got the process rolling, but it required a parent to request it formally. I knew the results wouldn’t change anything.

After receiving the autopsy report, cause of death is determined to be pentobarbital intoxication. Manner of death is SUICIDE. ~Albany County, WY Coroner

The coroner’s account reported that “he would normally sleep during the day and would be up most of the night,” according to the mother of his companion, with whom he had been living.

That hit home. Whether or not it’s due to depression, I am often up until 3–5 am and sleep until noon. I’ve always been a night owl. It’s the way my body naturally functions. Darkness gives me energy, even though I moved to Albuquerque because I needed more light than Chicago could provide.

Speaking of darkness, I always thought it odd that, for many years, his favorite movie was “American Beauty,” a black comedy-drama film released in 1999. Despite its theme, it won five Oscars, including Best Picture. At the time, he seemed to gravitate towards Thora Birch, the actress that played the insecure and somewhat disenfranchised daughter in the family the film portrays. Alex was 11 at the time.

He was also a huge fan of “Six Feet Under,” another rather dark story of a family that runs a funeral home. Ironically, Alan Ball wrote “American Beauty,” and he created and produced this series too. It also received widespread acclaim and won nine Emmy Awards and three Golden Globes. The series started in 2001 when Alex was 13.

“Requiem for a Dream” is another film that comes to mind in that genre with which he seemed to be obsessed. This is not the stuff that 12 year-olds generally watch.

Alex seemed to have a particular interest in female celebrities who were also disenfranchised. It started with Lindsey Lohan, and then his interest evolved into a fascination with Britney Spears. I think his favorite film of all time was “Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion,” which is funny in a strange way. Additionally, he had somewhat of an online relationship with Mira Sorvino on Twitter. When she learned of Alex’s passing, she sent out a lovely tweet about him.

Maybe this should have been a warning to his mom and me, but he was a “normal” kid otherwise (well, more special than that to me) and very friendly and mature otherwise.

The above picture is of his left hand in his companion's hand at the time of their death. His tattoo reads “unlearn,” done in his handwriting. The purple in their hands and nails is frostbite. They were found in a tent in a wilderness area near Laramie, Wyoming.

I have a sense, but I would like to know what “unlearn” really meant to him.

Matthew Shepherd was killed outside of Laramie, and I sometimes wonder if, symbolically, the place he chose to commit this act was of relevance. As was Shepherd, my son was gay. He didn’t die in a tragic way like Shepherd, but in both cases, we lost our kid.

I’ve given much thought since 9/11 whether or not to feature this image. In the end, it’s not for commercial gain. At this stage of my grief, the photo is soothing, and here’s why. It indicates that Alex was not alone when he left this world. It obviously doesn’t make me happy. But it at least says he had one person he could trust 100% with his life and death.

I guess it provides some solace. But we’ll never know the entire story, and that is what will disturb me for the rest of my days.

If you know someone in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800–273–8255. Their services are free and available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Photograph ©2021 Arthur K. Small. Permission must be granted for the use of the image. Contact [email protected].

These other stories will give you more background on the above.