I am sitting on the couch with my son's hat on. He wore it a week before he died when he was shoveling snow. He was home all day with me since September. Just me and him , four cats and his boxer.

In August he had an overdose that was a close call. He had just got kicked out of Rehab for leaving and coming back with a bag of heroin. He was home for two days and was going to start outpatient treatment the following day. We weren't letting him drive. He asked his dad if he could use his bicycle to go to an NA meeting. My husband had a bad feeling, but let him use it because it was a meeting. At 3:00 am my husband had fallen asleep on the couch but woke up to the sound of water running. He went to the powder room. The door was locked. I woke up when I heard him scream Jason, Jason. We found him on the floor on his side in a pool of vomit and blood. He was breathing but not well. This time we were able to revive him before the paramedics came. He ended up in the medical hospital for a month. He had a blood clot and cellulitis that almost went septic.

I remember picking him up at the hospital he was so thin and looked bad. He refused any visits from anyone while in the hospital nor could we get information on him. We could not put him on the street so he came home. He had lost his job. The year before his first and only girlfriend , they met at 17, left him. In my mind this was what pushed him over the edge. He was never good about talking about his feelings. At the time all he had was us and his dog.

In a way I was glad he was home. We did not let him have money or drive. We felt time and loving care would help him a lot. In reality, looking back, he never really engaged in life again. We tried, he was a 27 yr old man, we could only suggest things.

Anyway over the last couple of years I had become more and more reclusive. He became my house buddy. He was always up to driving me places, we had some good times together. I wish I had hugged him more and maybe said I loved you more. He was so smart and talented. How can this be real ?

There are so many whys and what ifs.

I miss him more than words can say. I have so much guilt.

I was just going through and old notebook and found a suicide note I wrote to him in 2010. Amongst other things I told him I was sorry he got a defective Mom. How could I have ever thought about leaving him. Now he is the one that left. It makes absolutely no sense.

Today it feels too much to handle. Doing anything seems useless. There is no comfort in anything.