Jason Horne was my son. I feel very blessed to have known him - not just because he was my son, but because he was an incredible person. I loved being with him, talking with him, laughing with him. He was an amazing kid with a wonderful sense of humor - from the time he was very small he loved being the center of attention where he kept his entire family entertained by doing stand-up comedy routines. He absolutely loved his family - his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. He was fiercely loyal to the point where the only times I really saw Jason angry was when he felt someone he loved was being portrayed unfairly or mistreated. His friends were friends for life. 

He was a little person, never weighing more than 120 pounds in his entire life, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in bravery, daring, cockiness, and just plain wild impulsiveness. From the time he was little, nothing pleased him more than a good horror movie - unless it was scaring the wits out of one of his cousins, grandparents, or mom.  Grandpa Horne was the target of Jason jumping out of closets, from behind doors, buckets placed to pour down on his head when he came home, and even once he planned to jump out of his clothes hamper. He loved adrenaline rushes and thought that everyone else loved them too, or at least should learn to appreciate them. There were many nights when after he said good-night and closed his bedroom door, I sat unsuspectingly on the couch watching TV when suddenly a hand would reach up and grab my foot or hand and Jason would growl while I let out a blood curdling scream. That to him was the perfect end to any day.

He grew up loving the outdoors. He was the most relaxed when he sat watching the end of his fishing pole beside a lake or staring into a campfire under the stars. As he got older, his passion for fishing and camping never lessened. He discovered snowboarding when he was 19 and during one of our last conversations told me it was the only time he felt truly happy. Boarding was all the things that we loved about Jason, all rolled into one. It was laughter, fear, adrenaline, being outside with the sun on his face and the wind whipping around his shoulders. I will always regret that I never experienced it with him, though he asked me to come along many times. If Jason loved something, he was eager to share it with everyone he loved.

Jason had a group of friends he called "the guys." The guys were his closest friends and he would refer to them as his brothers. He met most of the guys at Colorado Springs Christian School in the 8^th grade and they would remain friends until the day Jason died. I know that they would have done anything for Jason - and I think if Jason had not been sick, he would have known it too. During high school they lost one of "the guys" to suicide. When Jeremy died, Jason was so hurt, angry, confused, shocked, devastated - all the emotions we all went through when we lost Jason. Jason and I talked a lot about what happened and how he felt about it. He was angry that Jeremy didn’t call on them - but he was more angry at himself for not being there for Jeremy. He wished he had been a better friend - but I reminded him that he couldn’t have known. It haunted Jason though - and I remember him saying how much he hated suicide and how he would never do that to his friends and family.
Jason was an auto-mechanic, having gone to trade school in Salt Lake City, Utah and he was proud of the fact that he knew how to fix cars. He worked as a Ford mechanic for over two years and in that time he missed only two days of work. His bosses were always talking about what a good worker and responsible "kid" he was. He worked there from the time he was 17 until he was 19 . He moved into an apartment with a roommate when he was 18. He lived there for six months and then got a place with "the guys." He was dating Christy, a very sweet girl he had dated for three years. It seemed like one of the happiest times in his life. Soon after, Jason and Christy ended their relationship and Jason met Sarah. The girl who would become his wife.

When did Jason first become depressed? Why was I too blind to see what was happening to my son and how he began to believe that he was worthless, that life was a curse, that there was no hope and he was helpless to do anything to change things? We talked a lot - we had our weekly conversations and occasionally talked during the week, but he always told me how "great" everything was going. How could I know? He hid it so well.

Jason got married June 14^th, 2003 and that began the last year of his life. His sickness took hold of him sometime that year and no one close to him even knew what was happening. His self-esteem plummeted and he had trouble sleeping and eating, but he never said anything about his obsession with ending his life until a few days before he died. Whose fault is it? Who do I blame? No one. Jason killed himself, but Jason was sick when he made that decision. He was not able to realize that by ending his pain, he was transferring that pain to everyone who loved him. Suicide is no one’s fault. Suicide is the result of severe depression. I know that now - even though I tell myself, again and again and again, I should have been able to do more to help him. I live with so much regret. I knew Jason was suicidal, but still, I left him in Colorado Springs, naively believing his promises to take medication, see a therapist, and stay alive. I suppose I will live with that pain for the rest of my life - always feeling that as his mom, I was responsible for taking care of him. He was my baby.

Since Jason died, I have had to try to cope with a pain that is indescribable, unimaginable by anyone who hasn’t experienced it, and every day, I wonder how I will continue to bear it. Losing Jason is like having every cell in my body divided - the pain goes beyond a broken heart. It is a piercing of the soul - goes to a depth that I never even knew existed, is relentless and all consuming, threatens to destroy the rest of my life, every single day.  My beautiful baby - who I loved from the moment I first held him. My boy, who I laughed with and lived with and watched grow with so much pride that at times my heart would ache from the weight of it. My sweet Jason, who I loved with all of my heart and would have done anything for - gone with one impulsive, irrational, irreversible act.  

Jason killed himself - he alone made the choice. Jason was hurting, alone, desperate for someone to remind him of how special he was, how important he was, how needed he was - but the person he needed to hear that from didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, or for whatever reason, wasn’t able to do it. I wasn’t there either though - I couldn’t tell him and he didn’t call me that night and I didn’t call him. He made the decision, we carry the pain.

Suicide is like having a door slammed in your face.  There will never be another opportunity to say all the things we would "if only" we were given another chance.  Now I realize that even if I could talk to him again, it would not have changed anything.  You can't talk someone out of depression any more than you can talk someone out of cancer.  Jason's illness drove him to believe that the only solution was his death.  I believe had he held on a little while longer, he could have been treated, but he didn't give himself a chance.  He was so tired of fighting his own thoughts - with the 24-hour a day message in his head that he was alone and that no one would suffer if he was gone.  His illness made him think he was doing those he loved a favor.   I can only pray that now he knows just how wrong he was - how loved he was, how much he is missed every day.