AND HERE IT COMES, AGAIN!
June 11, 2010: Well, six more days until "the day". As I have been reflecting on what it was like those six days before Scott died, I have remembered conversations...one in particular. He asked me, "Mom, if you wrote and obituary about me, what would it say?" I told him I would have to say he was charming, charismatic... He said, "Don't say charming....that sounds "gay"." (He didn't mean that in a bad way....just like it was girlish) I then told him we didn't need to talk about this because if he would stop doing what he was doing, it would be a non-issue. I am not sure where the conversation went from there. I do remember telling him it would destroy me if something happened to him. (It has.) I also remember almost asking him if he was trying to kill himself....but, I didn't. I wonder if he knew... I just wonder so many things....
On the Tuesday before he died, there were many people (kids) at my home, when I got home from work. In the pool, out of the pool, all over! There was even a dog in the pool! I was so angry! I told him they needed to all go home. He wanted them to. So, I told them Scott really needed everyone to go home. He got angry with me for not putting it on me instead of him. I don't know why I didn't. We both wanted them to leave. Like so many other things in his life, he felt things were out of control and he didn't know what to do about it. And so, I stepped in. Of course, he had been using.
I don't remember the next couple of days. But on Saturday, the day before he died, I remember him telling me that two of his friends "made" him crush his methadone in the field and that it was hard! I didn't even know that he had anything besides his prescribed pain pills. We got in the pool. It was the first and only time we had been in the pool together. We had a good visit. He complained of chest pain. I told him, "No matter what lies you have to tell, you are going back into rehab on Monday!"
After the pool, I think I fixed dinner. Things are getting fuzzy, now. I remember one of his "friends" coming over about 9:30 p.m. I was sitting on the front porch. He shook my hand. I told him, "If you have anything to do with what Scott is doing, STOP!. He is going to die!" Shortly after, Scott left with that boy. saw my I don't even know if I hugged him. I do know I told him, "Be careful and I love you." He flashed me his awesome sideways grin. I never saw him, alive, again.
The following day, Sunday, Father's Day, I heard Scott get up to use the restroom about 10:00 a.m. I was still in bed, but not asleep. I was later told, he called his grandpa about that time and told him he would be over later, to plant a tree, but he wasn't feeling very well. I had no idea. I wish he would have told ME he wasn't feeling well! I got up and started getting things ready for the cookout we were having. I knew Scott had been out late so I thought, "Well, no one is coming until 6:30 p.m. I will wake Scott about 5:30 p.m." I wanted him to sleep off whatever.
At about 4:00 p.m., his dad and I got in the pool. I listened at Scott's door, heard a "funny" breath, but didn't go in. I thought, "I am waking him at 5:30 p.m. I really want him to be "clean" and refreshed for the cook-out. In the pool I really felt my mother-in-law's presence. I mentioned it to my husband. And then, I started talking about an old landlord (twenty years prior) who's son had passed away. I don't know why... We got out of the pool about 5:00 p.m. I came in, dried my hair, changed clothes, and just sat in the living room visiting with my husband until the fated 5:30 p.m.
I told my husband, "Well, it is time to wake Scott. I sure hope he is "okay"." I almost got Gatorade for him. I decided to wait until he was up and after his shower.
When I knocked on his door, there was no answer. So, I opened the door...he had clothes stuffed under it...I was guessing to keep the cool in his room. When I went in, his eyes were open and he was on his back. I thought he was just waking up and staring at the ceiling the way people sometimes do. (I don't anymore) I said gently, "Scott.." Then louder. Then, I looked at his stomach the way you look at a babies to see if they're breathing. It wasn't moving. I started screaming and yelled for my husband. Scott was dead.
And so, I am reflecting. I missed chances, warnings, and who knows what else. I will never have the answers. I guess I will always wonder about so many things. What if I had gone in when I heard the "funny" breath. What if I had checked on him when I first came in. What if, what if? And here I am, nearly three years later, feeling the pain like it was yesterday. Oh, I really am destroyed.
On the Tuesday before he died, there were many people (kids) at my home, when I got home from work. In the pool, out of the pool, all over! There was even a dog in the pool! I was so angry! I told him they needed to all go home. He wanted them to. So, I told them Scott really needed everyone to go home. He got angry with me for not putting it on me instead of him. I don't know why I didn't. We both wanted them to leave. Like so many other things in his life, he felt things were out of control and he didn't know what to do about it. And so, I stepped in. Of course, he had been using.
I don't remember the next couple of days. But on Saturday, the day before he died, I remember him telling me that two of his friends "made" him crush his methadone in the field and that it was hard! I didn't even know that he had anything besides his prescribed pain pills. We got in the pool. It was the first and only time we had been in the pool together. We had a good visit. He complained of chest pain. I told him, "No matter what lies you have to tell, you are going back into rehab on Monday!"
After the pool, I think I fixed dinner. Things are getting fuzzy, now. I remember one of his "friends" coming over about 9:30 p.m. I was sitting on the front porch. He shook my hand. I told him, "If you have anything to do with what Scott is doing, STOP!. He is going to die!" Shortly after, Scott left with that boy. saw my I don't even know if I hugged him. I do know I told him, "Be careful and I love you." He flashed me his awesome sideways grin. I never saw him, alive, again.
The following day, Sunday, Father's Day, I heard Scott get up to use the restroom about 10:00 a.m. I was still in bed, but not asleep. I was later told, he called his grandpa about that time and told him he would be over later, to plant a tree, but he wasn't feeling very well. I had no idea. I wish he would have told ME he wasn't feeling well! I got up and started getting things ready for the cookout we were having. I knew Scott had been out late so I thought, "Well, no one is coming until 6:30 p.m. I will wake Scott about 5:30 p.m." I wanted him to sleep off whatever.
At about 4:00 p.m., his dad and I got in the pool. I listened at Scott's door, heard a "funny" breath, but didn't go in. I thought, "I am waking him at 5:30 p.m. I really want him to be "clean" and refreshed for the cook-out. In the pool I really felt my mother-in-law's presence. I mentioned it to my husband. And then, I started talking about an old landlord (twenty years prior) who's son had passed away. I don't know why... We got out of the pool about 5:00 p.m. I came in, dried my hair, changed clothes, and just sat in the living room visiting with my husband until the fated 5:30 p.m.
I told my husband, "Well, it is time to wake Scott. I sure hope he is "okay"." I almost got Gatorade for him. I decided to wait until he was up and after his shower.
When I knocked on his door, there was no answer. So, I opened the door...he had clothes stuffed under it...I was guessing to keep the cool in his room. When I went in, his eyes were open and he was on his back. I thought he was just waking up and staring at the ceiling the way people sometimes do. (I don't anymore) I said gently, "Scott.." Then louder. Then, I looked at his stomach the way you look at a babies to see if they're breathing. It wasn't moving. I started screaming and yelled for my husband. Scott was dead.
And so, I am reflecting. I missed chances, warnings, and who knows what else. I will never have the answers. I guess I will always wonder about so many things. What if I had gone in when I heard the "funny" breath. What if I had checked on him when I first came in. What if, what if? And here I am, nearly three years later, feeling the pain like it was yesterday. Oh, I really am destroyed.
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