When all this first happened, last week, I was sure that I would not want or be able to mention it at all on this blog. Now, however. I feel ready to do so.
August 28th thirty years ago was such a happy day. It was the day I gave birth to my second child and first son, Hugh.
August 28th this year was very different. It was the day of his funeral.
Last Thursday morning, I had a phone call from Elder Daughter, Kathy, to tell me that Hugh had taken his own life during the night. He was due to go to Afghanistan in September and had a bad feeling about it and, to tell the truth, so did I but more important than this, he had also been undergoing a lot of problems with his ex-partner and the struggle to gain access to his son, Paul. Because of the break-up, he had also incurred a lot of debt and his house was about to be repossessed. He was suffering from depression and I also believe that the PTSD he suffered twelve years ago after his tour in Kosovo had never been properly dealt with because he was unwilling to undergo adequate therapy at the time.
Whatever the reasons, although he had all the support possible from family and friends, that night, he decided that nothing and no-one could help him further.
He had a full military funeral yesterday. The army did him proud and the huge numbers of friends and colleagues bore witness to the esteem in which he was held.
I have been keeping a record of the days since his death which I will post on here over the next few days.
August 28th thirty years ago was such a happy day. It was the day I gave birth to my second child and first son, Hugh.
August 28th this year was very different. It was the day of his funeral.
Last Thursday morning, I had a phone call from Elder Daughter, Kathy, to tell me that Hugh had taken his own life during the night. He was due to go to Afghanistan in September and had a bad feeling about it and, to tell the truth, so did I but more important than this, he had also been undergoing a lot of problems with his ex-partner and the struggle to gain access to his son, Paul. Because of the break-up, he had also incurred a lot of debt and his house was about to be repossessed. He was suffering from depression and I also believe that the PTSD he suffered twelve years ago after his tour in Kosovo had never been properly dealt with because he was unwilling to undergo adequate therapy at the time.
Whatever the reasons, although he had all the support possible from family and friends, that night, he decided that nothing and no-one could help him further.
He had a full military funeral yesterday. The army did him proud and the huge numbers of friends and colleagues bore witness to the esteem in which he was held.
I have been keeping a record of the days since his death which I will post on here over the next few days.
Hugh was a complex person and not an easy child but I loved him very much and my heart is breaking to think that he's gone. I can only hope and believe that he has found peace at last.
