When suicide becomes your reality

When Charlie died, suicide moved from being my greatest fear to my worst nightmare. No longer was it a distant possibility, it was our reality. A reality that most will never know, but that shapes my everyday.

Because suicide now resides in my  lived experience, when I dropped off James at university for the first time since Charlie’s death, I was both optimistic and quietly petrified. James has spent the past year living and studying at home. While necessary to all our mental health that he stay home with us, it only served to further isolate him.

This year his schedule demands that James reside in Waterloo. For most 21 year olds, this would be no big deal, but not for James. And even the tiniest possibility that James might not survive fills me with dread. As unlikely as it is, I will never be able to say that it couldn't happen.

You see, James is autistic. James is very bright and he is equally challenged by chronic headaches, IBS, physically exhausting sensory issues,  and learning challenges.

Perhaps hardest of all, James doesn’t find it easy to make friends. He is socially isolated by fear and  difficulty in relating to most of his peers. If we could only find another young adult with a passion for politics, war studies, and warhammer, together with a wicked sense of humour. Or, at least, one who can appreciate a young man like that.

James is the reason I breathe. With my other reason, and James’s BFF gone, all I ask is that he be happy. Unfortunately, that is asking a lot.

So I am putting this out there in the hope that someone up there might hear and grant me my wish. Please God, angel Charlie, and any celestial powers that may be, keep my James safe. And find him a friend.