My Mother's Love

My mother doesn’t know what you’re about to read. I’ve never told her. I’m anxious about sharing, but maybe it will help someone.

For five years, I struggled through a horrible, dark, difficult time. I thought about suicide every day. I refused to make a plan for my demise because I knew I’d follow through.

My mother with my brother Stan, c. 1958.

When a loved one dies, people rally to your support. When you’re struggling through cancer, they bring meals. When they see you suffering, they offer aid. In my case, I had a loving wife, beautiful kids, a nice home, a good job and great health. From everyone else’s perspective, I had it all. Spirit told me, “Part of your trial is no one knows.” I felt so profoundly alone.

I sent a trusted friend a text. I knew she wouldn’t call 911. I asked, “Do you think God still loves me?”

One thing kept me alive. I knew my mother loved me always, unconditionally, and unendingly. That’s the only thing I knew for sure. It kept me here. I’d witnessed her anguish when my brother Stan died in a farm accident. I couldn’t put her through that torture again.

Beyond the soul-crushing mists of darkness, there is light. Reach out for help. Don’t give up.

Please, mothers, never underestimate the power of your love to save a soul.

Mom, I love you.