Amanda

Her story is not my story to tell. My story to tell is the impact Amanda had on me and on my family.

On Wednesday, February 15, 2023, my brother in law called my wife to tell her that he had just found the body of his girlfriend. I’ll spare you the details, but the young woman affectionately known as Aunt Panda had taken her own life. My wife and I packed our bags in a complete and total haze and drove 2 hours to Fort Worth where my brother in law lived. We spent the next 24 hours consoling him. Telling him it wasn’t his fault. Holding him as he cried. Reminding him that he is loved.

That next evening, we went home. We don’t just leave our children out of the blue. They knew something was wrong. They knew we were with their uncle. From 120 miles away, we could only tell them, “We are ok. Your uncle is ok. Please trust us.”

How do you tell 3 highly-sensitive little girls that Aunt Panda was dead? How do you tell these same 3 girls that it was no accident - she had taken her own life. Do you tell them? They’re going to ask.

We sat them down on the couch in our living room and the very first word out of my middle child’s mouth was, “Did somebody die?”

“Yes, baby. Somebody died.”

“Was it Amanda?” How did she know?

“Yes, baby. Amanda passed away.”

My God - the tears. All I could do was hold my oldest daughter while my wife held the younger twin and our baby. I wept uncontrollably and apologized. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so sorry. She loved you so much. I am so sorry.”

The little one left the room and the twins asked the question we were dreading. “Did Amanda kill herself?”

“Yes. She did.”

“How?”

“That’s not important. All that is important is we love you so very much and nothing can change that. She loved you so very much and nothing can change that.”

My wife was a rock that night.

Fast forward a week, a month, months later. I think about sweet Amanda every single day. My girls still have her picture saved as their background picture on their iPad. I still tear up when I stumble across her picture on my iPhone. My emotions have gone from anger to grief to disbelief. I have cursed God. I have cursed Amanda. What kind of God would allow such a precious soul to be so tortured that the only way to escape this torture is to end it all? What kind of person, loved by 3 little girls, would do something so damn selfish?

I wrestle with these thoughts each and every day. I’ll wrestle with it until I breathe my last breath.

Demons are real. Everybody has them but not everyone has the ability to deal with them. It sucks. It’s selfish. It’s awful. It’s unfair. If you know somebody is dealing with demons - don’t hesitate to reach out. Love them. Pray for them. Listen to them. It may be for naught, but you don’t want to ask yourself if there was more that you could’ve done. You don’t want that guilt. You don’t want to have to explain this to your children.