Our Story
A Shattered Dream
When I was 18, I left my hometown of San Antonio, Texas and headed to Provo, Utah to attend Brigham Young University. Not long after I was enrolled, I met my sister’s roommates and one of their brothers who had just come home from serving a full-time mission in Nashville, Tennessee.
The next summer I became his wife, married into a wonderful family and started my future and dreams with my husband. We had many wonderful years together and started a family. But happiness turned to heartache as addictions, lack of self-worth, betrayal and depression plagued our marriage. Just shy of our 10 year anniversary, my life got even harder when he left and we divorced shortly thereafter.
We had two sons ages 5 and 11 months old and I was barely
hanging on. The addictions and mental health got worse for my ex-husband. The up and down roller coaster was hard to bare. Seven years after our divorce, my ex-husband attempted suicide and I was the second person to the hospital after he was found. Seeing him so frail and hooked up to machines while he was unconscious was painful. Life had beat him down and he looked so worn out.
The Phone Call I Never Wanted to Receive
My ex-husband’s ups and downs continued until 3 years later when he died by suicide at the end of October 2017. I remember the phone call coming in and I didn’t want to pick it up because I knew what it was for. After several rings, I answered and got the gut-wrenching news. One of the hardest things to ever endure was to share the sad news with our two sons followed by watching our sons grieve as the casket closed. How was I going to get them through this? How was I going to get through this? Will they end up in the same situation as their Dad? Fear and anguish were crippling my mind.
Prior to his death, I was also dealing with depression and had finally sat down with my husband, now a family of 4 kids, that I needed help. After my ex-husband’s death, my mental health got worse. I dealt with the frustration of not wanting to live but the heavy responsibility to stick around for my family, especially for my older 2 sons who had already lost their Dad. The pain they would go through if I was to take my life was too much to bear. I felt stuck in my difficult situation. I felt very hopeless and angry my ex went first and that I was left to pick up all the pieces. I felt like I had nothing to offer my family. I felt I had no purpose.
I Finally Started to Heal
I needed help and finally got myself into counseling and started to try and heal from years of heartache and other life events. I also put my sons on a long wait list at the nearest grief support group about 30 miles away. It wouldn’t start for four months for our now 12 year old and almost a year later for our 16 year. Once they did get in and started to go, it was life changing. It provided a safe place to share with other youth and parents about loss. It provided hope for all of us.
A few months into seeing a counselor and attending the grief support group, I started to feel a little glimpse of hope. Maybe I did have PURPOSE and I was important? My depression was lessening, and I was starting to find my purpose and some joy. I decided to start a support group in my local community for grieving children, youth and adults who have experienced loss of a loved one or close friend. I have learned even when you have purpose, you will still have your aliments and having purpose doesn’t make them go away it just humbles you and teaches you more compassion for other’s struggling.
