Alex was born on January 1, 1993 he was always a happy and very intelligent person. From a parent’s perspective he was a very easy-going child. He did very well in school and sports. He had a good social base and to the outside world appeared to be perfectly fine. Towards the end of high school something changed.
At the end of first summer break in college he shared with us that all was not well. He described to us the depression and anxiety he was feeling. We got him in to see a therapist, and when he returned to school, he connected with the therapist through the University. We would frequently check in with him and not get a lot back. Both Kathy and I grew up in what I would consider a very normal “American” home environment, that being one that men are supposed to be tough and not show emotion or pain. Alex had that in spades. He had always felt that no matter what the problem was it was his and his alone to solve. So, most of the communication we had was that he was doing fine. He would go to therapy in bouts and be on and off different medications that didn’t seem to help.
After he graduated, we noticed different behaviors in him. Hindsight being what it is, things we thought were small issues were a lot of different warning signs. Ultimately though Alex was very intelligent and knew how to hide his struggles. All of this happened after he had turned 18 so our ability to get information on his treatment and challenges came from him. None of us had ever heard “it’s okay to not be okay” and we had a challenge communicating about his struggles, or for that matter mine.
Depression is a BITCH that will grind you down into nothing; and for me, the worse thing I can do is not talk about it. I have suffered with it as long as I can remember. I only recently (within the last 4 years) sought treatment. While Alex and I minimally shared our own challenges, I hoped that my attempts would further foster a sense that it was indeed –
okay to NOT be okay.
We had in the two years prior to his death found a common love in motorcycles. I have loved them all my life but didn’t get my first bike until our kids were in high school. Alex got his first bike, a Yamaha Virago 250, the summer he graduated from college. He road it every day during that season, regardless of the weather. He loved the feeling of freedom. The previous owner put a Harley Davidson Bar & Shield logo on the rear fender. His friends called it the Hardly Davidson, which he thought was hilarious. We would ride together as much as our schedules allowed. In the winter of 2017, Alex bought a used Kawasaki KLR 650 that he intended to take cross country. No plans, just to go where the wind took him. He was putting together gear and had taken the bike apart to paint it. We went to a motorcycle swap meet and spent the day together looking at bikes and parts, enjoyed a burger and a beer, and talked about his plans for his trip.
Just 5 days later- on April 28, 2017- Alex lost his seemingly eternal struggle with his mental health demons and succumbed to the pain.
