My son is taking it hard. Those who know us understand.
It is always difficult for those left behind to make sense of such a senseless disease. It's self-inflicted, yet it's not. No more so than any other disease.
I'm thinking about Nate's family today. They've been waiting for this day, no doubt. Every knock on the door, every late night phone call brings with it a creeping anxiety that one of your lights is being extinguished.
You fight that feeling for years - thinking you caused, controlled or had the cure. You don't and it is such a hopeless feeling. At first, you detach and you use anger to make the initial thrust. But if you continue to use emotion to detach, you haven't really detached and you risk losing so much more. Finally, with help, you can reach a point where you detach with love and support, knowing that all our stories end the same.
Some of those stories are sad. Some are tragic. Some are tragically sad. Senseless.
You were enough, Nate.
