He was 22 years old, and leaves behind 3 siblings: Isis 5, Phoenix 3, and Atlas 1. He is at peace now and walks beside me with his finally unfurled. I love you Sweetpea. Mama misses you.
Kayden was a happy baby. He was born as Hale-Bopp passed by Earth. He was quick to walk, run, jump, and climb. He was fearless about most things. Except spiders. Deathly afraid of those and would run screaming to the forest highest point to evade them.
He loved to make people laugh, smile, and feel good inside. Many of his peers came to him for advice and to have a good time. Kayden valued loyalty, family, and friendship above all else. He was known to give his clothes, food, and last dollar to someone in need.
Kayden also struggled with suicidal thoughts, depression, and addiction. At the time of his death, he was convinced he was never going to get sober. The weight of it, and the stresses in his life, led him to a place with one exit. I talked to him for 17 minutes the day he shot himself. He poured out his heart, his wounds, his grief, his anger, and his shame. I told him I would hold him through it all. I promised he would come out the other side. I told him I loved him just as much as his much younger siblings. He said that was all he needed to know. I felt him walking a tightrope inside. I didn't he had a loaded gun in his hand. I would never of hung up. I was 5 minutes away. The shot rang out as I arrived. He never came down from his apartment to give me that hug he had promised. We were supposed to celebrate his little brother's first birthday that Sunday. Now every Sunday has a little stain. The 19th day of each month has one too.
I can feel him with me now though. He is so full of light. He loves us. We miss him so much. His goofy laugh and sense of humor. The way he contorted his face to make us laugh. The way he wrapped himself around the Little's and slept so content.
You left a profoundly deep hole in the lives of everyone that knew you, Kayden.
You are loved.
I love you.