Losing Our Precious Son

Parenting a wayward child is an exhausting and distressing role. We have gone back and forth trying to determine what is the best way to respond and help our addicted son, Trevor. I will admit, we have not always been in agreement. Much of this stems from my husband's personal experience with an addicted sibling who took his life. I think he was desperate to come to a different conclusion with his son.

From day one, Trevor was very much like his Uncle Rob. He did things with vehemence. Most recently, his driven, give-it-all mentality zeroed in on his bodybuilding. Here is a photo of him flexing:

Unfortunately, he relapsed at the end of May. At 2 a.m., there was no way to take him to a treatment center, so we took him to the ER. They would only release him into a residential treatment center (good for them!) At first, still under the influence of the drugs, he refused to stay for the 28-day treatment. He wanted to leave after the initial 7-day detox period. My husband wanted to let him come back home. In my opinion, that would only enable him to go back to using (our home is where this all began). I began to pray importunately for God to change their minds. Praise God! My husband told him he couldn't come home and Trevor decided he would stick out the program.

Of course, he had to detox from everything (including the Retitrutide weight loss drugs he was injecting and the steroids he was taking to enhance his bodybuilding). He said they had snacks available everywhere and he had to get some dopamine somehow, so he ate himself into a 60-pound weight gain. The relapse was a crushing blow! The loss of his intentions to participate in a bodybuilding competition in August was a devastating blow! From there, things continued to spiral.

He moved from the treatment center into a halfway house in Indianapolis. We knew this wasn't the best plan (after all, he knew where to access drugs in Indy), but he wasn't moving home, either. He was living in Indy, working at a Steak 'n Shake in Brownsburg, and visiting his girlfriend in Kirklin. Many miles driven at a time when gas prices are high. He couldn't even break even.

Then came some relationship difficulties. I think his girlfriend had made it very clear to him that she was clean and she would not remain with someone who uses. The friction and pain escalated. He responded in very unhealthy ways. When he posted something on Instagram saying, "Hope you all enjoyed the sh!t show," we were terrified he intended to find drugs.

Then, on July 3rd, he was coming to our home to pick up some food. He said he was crying and couldn't see clearly. He plowed into the front end of another vehicle that had turned into a subdivision just in front of him. His car was totaled and he knew we had vowed not to replace it (we'd already helped him purchase 3 vehicles). I'm sure his mind was reeling. No car. No way to get from Indy to his job or to visit his girlfriend. Not to mention, the possibility that the other driver might sue him for his fault in the accident. He was suicidal. He did not want to live. I took him in my arms and he just sobbed. We prayed with him. He agreed to go to a psych hospital as soon as his girlfriend could take him after she finished work. While waiting, he called and learned the commitment time was 7-14 days. He decided he didn't want to lose his bed, his job, or his upcoming court date, so he found an outpatient psych therapy that he could do in the halfway house from his phone.

On July 4th, he posted photos of himself at a party holding a beer can. His younger brother tried to tell him these decisions were unwise. On July 5th, I drove to his halfway house to take him to work. I bought him a pizza because his house meeting had gone long and he'd had no dinner. That's the last time I saw my beloved boy.

On July 6th, he took an Uber to work. While at work, he kept going to the bathroom. Finally, he went to the bathroom and did not come out. A coworker knew Sean's phone number because Sean used to work there. She called to tell him there was an incident with Trevor and they needed a family member there immediately. After my husband headed to the restaurant, the coworker called back. Sean said he knew it was bad when she couldn't talk. He then came in to gently wake me and share that "there was an incident at the Steak 'n Shake, and he's gone." I shot up. My initial thought was I wanted to see him and hold him one more time. I didn't think I could drive, so Sean drove me over. They would not let me near his body. We were there until midnight speaking with detectives, officers, and the coroner.

This week has been a whirlwind of planning and details. It feels like every minute I have something else to think about or address. I'm holding together fine (probably helped by the antidepressant medication I'm on), but my husband is grieving intensely. I'm glad Trevor is no longer in the intense emotional pain he was carrying. I'm glad he no longer has to struggle and fight this demon.

If you want to view his obituary, a photo slideshow, and a remembrance journal, you can follow this link. We also set up a Trevor Hill Addiction Memorial Fund. Now begins the dreadful process of learning to live without him. After picking our oldest son, Bryce, up from the airport, we stopped to get Chinese carry-out. As I went in to pick up the food, I realized we will never be able to eat inside that restaurant again. Trevor loved to eat there and ate with gusto. Then, on Thursday, I finally managed to get in a walk. I used to always spend most of my walks praying about Trevor. That was a crushing moment.

Please pray for our family as we walk this difficult road. Even though I had irrationally wanted to see him on the night of his death, I know that the most difficult moment will be when we come for the visitation and see him laid out, a shell of the person he once was, devoid of his spark. I have asked to speak a few words. I am praying I am not incapacitated with grief. Pray we will hold up as they lower his body into the ground, in a finality that cannot be erased. We are heart-sick and deeply saddened by the loss of our precious son.