I want to tell a story, a story that might be familiar to some or foreign to others. A story I don’t think I have ever told from start to finish, but here it is.
One day when I was 16 years old my mum, who was a foster career, got a phone call. That phone call was to tell her that there was, in a hospital somewhere across town, a tiny baby boy that needed a home and a family to love him. He was 10 weeks old, but he was also 10 weeks premmie, so he was pretty much a newborn.
The next day we drove to the hospital, entered the maternity ward and were pointed to a clear plastic basket in the corner that held a tiny, beautiful baby boy. I will NEVER forget that very first time we saw him. We unwrapped him and turned him over on his back as he stretched out his arms. I gazed at his angelic beautiful face and it was instant love. A true case of love at first sight.
Being a premmie there were to be some expected deficits. But we happily took them on and took him home to give him as much love and care as possible.
As time progressed it became evident that he had a condition called Hydrocephalous, which is basically fluid on the brain. This was believed to have been caused by a cerebral haemorrhage at birth. As a consequence he spent a LOT of time in his early months and years in hospital, including having a shunt put in to drain the fluid from his brain. My mum remained by his bedside at all times and we loved him as much as we could.
He thrived and grew into an AMAZING little boy with bright blue eyes, olive skin and curly blonde hair. They had to shave the top of his head for the shunt when he was really young and when it grew back he had a beautiful mop of the curliest blonde hair just across the top of his head.
When he was around 18 months old the subject of ‘long term’ was raised. He was ‘ours’ and the thought of not having him in our lives was not one we cared to entertain so mum investigated the route of adoption. At her age (early 50s) and with her marital status (widower) the odds were against this happening. But what was for this happening was his detailed medical background which mum had intimate knowledge of, and so much had occurred in his short life medically. There was also the obvious bond that was present between this little guy and my mum, my brothers and myself. The courts and the ‘powers that be’ ruled in our favour and the adoption was signed and sealed around the time that he turned two.
So time went on and he continued to be a truly beautiful child – kind, funny, gorgeous, quirky. I ADORED him, we all adored him! But as all beautiful children do, they grow into teenagers and although they are still beautiful, the teenage years for some can be fraught with turmoil.
Things has been tough for him. His quirkiness, which we LOVED, caused him to be ‘un-popular’, even bullied. His genetic history was fractured with mental illness. His biological family (a sister slightly older than me), his birth mother, father, aunties and uncles wanted no contact (aside from one aunty who would exchange letters).
I am sure that something clicks in kids around 14 years old and they start to really want to figure out ‘who am I?’ Now I know this is the not the same for all kids that are not with their birth families, and many are raised with such a wonderful sense of ‘self’. Their internal question of ‘who am I?’ is already answered from within. They know who they are, or better still they develop who they are from their surroundings and determine their place in this world. For my little brother this was not the case. His sense of self was rocked to the core, he had no anchor. His mum was older that those in his peer group, his siblings were much older than him. His birth family did not want to know him and his quirkiness had disengaged him and ostracised from his peers. On top of all of this our Mum had been given a terminal cancer diagnosis.
It was all too much for this child, who was transforming into an adult, to handle. He had no true north and no direction to figure out the adult he wanted to grow into and the direction he needed to steer. I believe these are the reasons that he decided to transform himself SO FAR from the child he had been, that beautiful kind, angelic, blonde haired, blue eyed, olive skinned boy.
We all had so much going on. Mum’s health had taken a bad turn, my sister in law had a bad accident and we all had work and bills and commitments and this poor child got left by the way side. Bobbing up and down all alone in a sea of uncertainty and turmoil! He knew we were all there for him. I truly believe he knew that but he needed a leader, someone to give him clear direction and we were all just treading water ourselves.
We tried, we ALL tried ! Sometimes I think I didn’t try hard enough but some part of me knows that there was never enough. He spent different periods of time living with all of us but maybe that just exasperated the problem, put the instability under a microscope and really made him wonder when Mum died where would he ‘fit’ ?
So my beautiful sweet loving little brother emerged from his cocoon the polar opposite to how he went in. He dyed his hair black, took to applying (well over applying) black eyeliner to many parts of his face and wore black – and ONLY black. His world had in fact turned black! But we continued to love him, the more he rebelled the more we insisted we loved him. The more he tried to extradite himself and make himself unlovable we pushed on – well that is how I remember so I hope that is how he felt.
But this child was lost and no matter how much we loved him, to the depths of our souls - it was not enough to steer him ‘home’.
Nine years ago, on 28th December 2006, he had decided that the world was too tough of a place for him and he made the choice to end his life.
I remember the last time I saw him, Christmas day 2006 and I can still feel him lay his hands on my 8 months pregnant belly to feel the sweet kicks of his nephew he would never meet. I still remember the last time I spoke to him, it was the afternoon of December 27th and as I told him I loved him, my mobile phone dropped out of service - I can still picture it EXACTLY in my head. Had I known it was the last time we would speak I would have called him back. But that is life right ? We never ever know when the last conversation, kiss, touch or connection will be. I’m pretty sure he heard me, either way my heart tells me he knows I loved him.
I know many people look on suicide as a ‘selfish act’ one that cast only pain and sadness on those left behind. I believe that to be untrue and unfair. I don’t believe anyone wants to die – I believe that sometimes the thought of living is just too much to bear. I believe that the thought of going on and having a future seems impossible. I believe that these shattered souls think the world is better off without them. Wanting to die and not wanting to live, I believe are two VERY different things… I don’t believe ANYONE WANTS to die!
It’s funny when I think about him as an adult, I never really could image it. I know when you have a child or raise a child you dream for their future and the adult they will become. But I like to see him as being ‘forever young’ and I think I always have.
I think all this kid needed to know was that HE was ENOUGH! Full stop. End of story. Despite his quirkiness, his difference and his choice of appearance, he needed to know he was enough. He needed to know that he was ‘ok’. He needed to know that he ‘fitted’. He needed these things not just from us but from his world on the whole. Society, his peer group, his birth family and the commercial madness that drives what we believe is 'normal'. He needed to know he fitted and despite us loving him with all our hearts… But sometimes love just ain’t enough.
In Loving Memory of Kevin Jonathan McMahon 15 June 1989 – 28 Dec 2007
Christmas is a VERY difficult time for many people. People are MISSING those that they love exponentially this time of year. People are feeling on the outside more than EVER at this time of year. People are feeling unloved, incomplete and not enough … for many, many reasons. I found it really overwhelming to hear from the funeral home that Christmas time is a very common time for suicides. So much happiness and love and peace on earth is pumped into us every which way. For those that aren’t feeling apart of this, for those that already feel on the outer, this is a time of year where negative feelings can go into overdrive. Feelings of loneliness, sadness and depression, longing, missing, and feeling incomplete. If you know anyone that maybe be struggling, reach out and be kind, offer love and open your heart and your home – you never know you might just save a life!
