Kids aren’t supposed to die before their parents, but right now my brother is having to deal with that.

My 31-year-old nephew killed himself, and I know my grief is nothing compared to Corey’s. I baby-sat David when he was little, but I missed a lot of his life, unfortunately, thanks to him being taken out of the state when he was still a little kid, and then my living elsewhere once he returned in his teens. David had a rough life and made bad choices, but he also cleaned up his act and was in a better place than a few years ago.

At the moment, I don’t know all the details, but I know from the choice that David made this time that he had to be in profound pain and probably felt he had no recourse.

If you know someone who is depressed and at the end of his rope, please make yourself available. Platitudes aren’t what is needed, but a shoulder and caring words are.

David, my sweet boy, you were  and are loved and will be missed. I love you, kid.

One of my favorite pictures of David as a kid; the image just says so much. I have a few more recent photos, but haven’t tracked  them down. This, though, is one of the first images I always remember.

David gives his Aunt Brenda a hug while his great-grandma looks on.

David, his brother Matt, and Sarah and her brother Derek sit on their Grandpa.

David’s daughter, Abrie, held by Grandpa Corey.