Chapter 6:  The End is HERE.

"I don't see how that would work."

Those words will ring in my ears for the rest of my life.  I know that Shawn did not get along well with his mother.  At times he did not get along well with me.  I know that he had been irresponsible at times.  I know that he overdid alcohol and, at times, used drugs.  I know that he ran himself into debt, repeatedly, and came close to ruining my credit.  I know he lied to us and withheld important information.  But I would forgive all of that in a second if only...

I was at work on April 17, 2001, when I received a call from his girlfriend's mother.  In a very "matter-of-fact" tone she said, "Your son took an overdose.  The paramedics are working on him now.  He'll probably be dead before you get here." 

"I don't see how that would work."

Before she could hang up I managed to get her to say where "here" was.  It was Shawn's apartment, where he had been on the phone talking to me only hours before.  I jumped in the car and began the 40 mile drive to his apartment.  While driving I tried repeatedly to call his mom without success.  His mom, Sylvia, worked at a military base and somehow all of the telephone lines were out of commission.  No phone calls could go in or out, but I didn't know that at the time.  I don't remember how long it took me to get there, I don't remember anything about the drive at all, except that I imagined getting to Shawn just as he awoke.  We would hung and cry and everything would be alright.  But I got to his apartment and saw nothing.  No Shawn.  No medics.  No ambulance.  Nothing. 

I ran to the apartment manager's office and asked where Shawn was.  After what seemed like an eternity I found out that Shawn had been taken to an emergency room.  After another eternity I found out which one.  Finally I got directions on how to get there.  I drove there as fast as I could still trying to reach his mom.  Still no luck.  I found a parking spot right in front of the emergency room entrance.  When I went inside I saw his girlfriend and her parents in the waiting area.  When I entered the emergency room, they said nothing.  So I asked, "How's he doing?"

The girlfriend's mother said, "You're too late, he died." 

"I don't see how that would work."

I collapsed into the nearest chair.  No, no, no.  This can't be happening.  I had just talked with him last night.  He did not seem depressed.  He did not sound to be in crisis.  "Why, Shawn, why?"  Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face.  I could only sob, hunched over and  looking down, down to the cell phone that I still held in my hand.  Somehow I had to get through to his mom.  So I tried one more time.  I could barely see the keypad but I stabbed at the numbers anyways.  It began to ring.  Sylvia picked up the phone and I had to tell her, "Shawn has taken an overdose."

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"No.  He didn't make it."

The long painful wail that came over the phone echoed the one reverberating in my heart.  We both hung onto the phone and cried to each other.

"I don't see how that would work."

Finally, one of her co-workers took the phone from Sylvia and asked if I could come pick her up since she was in no condition to drive.  I started to do just that and had only gotten a few blocks when the cell phone rang.  Her co-workers had decided to bring Sylvia to the hospital to save me the drive.  I doubt that I could have made the trip to her and back to the hospital.

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur.  There were some forms to fill out.  They asked if we wanted to donate Shawn's eyes, but the girlfriend was completely against that so we decided not to.  We were allowed to spend a few moments with Shawn and all we could think or say was "Why?"  Before returning to the waiting room, the police wanted to talk with me.  What was surprising was they indicated that Shawn apparently had fallen under the influence of the wrong people.  The police specifically mentioned the parents of the girlfriend indicating they had had dealings with them before. While back in the waiting room, the girlfriend's father was lamenting that he had loaned Shawn $300 and he needed that money back.  Our son had just died, was laying cold in the emergency room, and he was pressing me for $300.  Unreal.

Of course there were many things that had to be worked out, arranging the funeral, contacting friends and family, asking for a few days off from work, etc.   Most people do not realize how close I came to taking my own life that day.  It would have been so easy and I would be reunited with my mom, my dad, and my son.  At that time, I felt that I had failed my son, failed in being a father.

"I don't see how that would work."

One of the things that stopped me was that Sylvia called a priest that I worked with at the college.  He came to the house and we chatted for a while and that eased the pain a little.  Another thing that stopped me was the need to put things in order.  I wanted to leave messages to the people I know to explain that they should not grieve for me.  I drafted those letters in my head but had not written them yet.  I had not yet buried Shawn.  That was a task that I had to see to its completion.  Finally, I realized that there was no hurry.  Sooner or later everyone dies.  Shawn would wait for me.

We depended a lot on the help of the funeral director.  We tried to keep it simple.  After the arrangements were made the father of the girlfriend tried to amend the contract to have additional things added.  We had to put a stop to that and chastise the funeral home for even considering letting someone else change a legal contract.  It was going to be difficult every step of the way.  At the funeral, while Sylvia and my priest friend stood by, I read the eulogy that I wrote.  I just couldn't let it end with people remembering only that Shawn took his own life.  They had to know what a good person he was before he got involved with that other family.

After the funeral, the girlfriend's family continued to press for money for various reasons.  At one point they threatened, "If you ever want to see your grandchild, ..." Well, we still had doubts that this child was Shawn's.  Sure enough, we conducted a DNA test and the boy was not Shawn's.  All the pressure that the other family put on Shawn was totally unnecessary.  All the degradation and insults were unwarranted.  What a total waste.

  

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