For Evan, Forever 19

Evan was born headstrong, a natural leader from the very beginning. He had a way of lighting up any room, making you laugh when you least expected it. He was full of life, adventure, and that fearless, adrenaline driven spirit that made him who he was. Through it all, he was always a momma’s boy at heart. 

Evan had big dreams, and he chased them. During high school, he became a firefighter, completed and passed his NREMT (National Registry of Emergency Medical Technicians) and was an active county storm spotter, something he had always dreamed of. He also worked hard to earn his welding certification. In May 2024, he graduated high school, stepping into a future full of promise. He was preparing to become a father that fall, something he had already begun to carry in his heart. He continued working as a ranch hand, loved riding horses, active in rodeos, and lived life wide open. He was always surrounded by the best of friends, family and love.

If you truly knew Evan, you would have never imagined the ending to his story.

Behind that strong, vibrant spirit, I began to see signs-quiet ones. A heaviness that came on suddenly after graduation. A fear in him that he might not be good enough to handle all the changes happening in his life. He tried, he truly tried. He reached out to a pastor for guidance. I found him more than once sitting in his truck late at night, reading and studying his Bible. He went to the doctor and started medication. He was fighting in ways not everyone could see.

As his mom, I worried constantly, watched closely, loved deeply, prayed fiercely and held on tight. He promised me he would never hurt himself or in his words “do something stupid.” I believed him. The most heart-wrenching part of it all (besides grieving) is the guilt I carry for not being able to fix him, for the helplessness I felt as I watched him struggle. The heartache, worry, and anxiety he experienced were things I couldn't always see or understand fully, but felt. As parents, our instinct is to patch our children's boo-boos, pick them up when they fall, and shield them from pain. We want to do everything in our power to protect them and help them thrive. 

 

Earlier on, my husband and I had taken precautions by removing every fire arm from our home and securing them elsewhere. I did everything I knew to do as a mother trying to protect her child. Belittle to my knowledge, I didn’t know there was one more. 
 

July 21, 2024, was the night our lives became forever altered. We had just celebrated his sister’s birthday. 2024 also brought an unexpected cancer diagnosis for my husband. We had just returned home the same week after being apart from our family due to a 2 week hospitalization, making that night even more perfect as we gathered for what would be our last moments as a complete family. Evan was laughing, joking and being his normal self. He had even made plans to go hiking with his siblings early the next morning. I remember thinking, he’s getting better. I let my guard soften, just for a moment. 

I felt tricked by hope, thinking he was improving mentally. That’s the hardest part; sometimes when you think they’re okay, the unimaginable still happens.

My heart is forever broken, but my faith reminds me this is not the end of Evan’s story. I hold onto God’s promise that there is no more pain and suffering where he is now. I believe Evan is held in the arms of Jesus, whole and at peace. Everyday lived is one day closer to  seeing and embracing my son again. Until then, I will carry him in my heart, speak his name and remember him for the life he lived, not the way he left.

He was life, laughter, strength, and love. Above all, he was and will forever be my son.   
Evan's story is a reminder that mental health is complex, that it doesn't discriminate, and that sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply listen, support, and remember that even those who seem to have it all together and the persona of being okay, are vulnerable. Mental health has a sick way of distorting a person's way to see truth clearly, to recognize their own worth, or to believe in brighter days ahead. Even when our loved ones appear to be doing well on the surface, there can be battles happening inside that we don't see. Sometimes, their pain is hidden so deeply that they go unnoticed, masked by smiles, laughter or silence.