Sharing Our Angels' Stories
- Rebecca Falls
Sharing Our Angels' Stories was created in memory of our loved one's lost to suicide, as a healing tool for those of us left behind. It helps us to know that we are not alone in our grief and suffering after suicide. It gives us a place to share our loved one's lives and our stories. If you would like to submit an entry, click on the email link at the bottom of the page - send your story submission, loved one's name, their dates and your name with your relationship to your loved one. We will add your submission at our first available moment. You need not be a member of our organization or any of our affiliates to send a submission.
Copyright Notice
As you release this butterfly in honor of me,
know that I'm with you and will always be.
Hold a hand, say a prayer, close your eyes and see me there.
Although you may feel a bit torn apart,
please know that I'll be forever in your heart.
Now fly away butterfly as high as you can go,
I'm right there with you more than you know.
By Jill Haley
Cory Chappell-Dunning
Cory, my only child, was born April 1st 1978 at 11.09 pm at Warkworth, a small country birthing unit 15 miles from home. He was born "talking". It wasn't until he was 6 days old that he cried. He was a perfect baby - ate, slept, did all that babies should. As a toddler he was on the go constantly. Always getting into mischief, always talking and moving. He couldn't sit through a meal without getting up for something. He stayed like that the whole of his 21 years 4 months and 10 days of his life. His father and I were not together at the time. I was 19, he was 20. It wasn't until 1981 that we got together again. Cory had a brief few months knowing his father before he was killed in a car accident New Years Eve 1981. Over the years he lost those memories. Though he never lost who his father was, as he was so very much like him. I often reminded him of that.
Cory excelled at any sport he played - cricket, hockey, swimming, athletics, riding. I envied his ability at sport - another gift he inherited from his father. When he was 13 he tried water skiing. He fell off once then never again. By the end of that day he was skiing on one ski.
Over the years I lost count of the amount of hospital visits he had. Other than one episode they were all for accidents. He took risks with everything he did, including with the law. He could never give a reason for his antics, mostly stealing and vandalism.; he'd just say "Don't know why I did it, just did it".
There seemed to be always traffic fines he was paying off as well. Cory just couldn't grasp control his finances. When he died he owed fines, credit card and the Govt for his student loan. His inheritance from his father was never in his name, something I am thankful for now. I have no qualms that he will never pay the govt or the banks their money.
He went through cars so quickly it was hard to keep up. He and his mates always had a "paddock car". They get these for free and use them on the back roads, or someone's paddock for racing. The longest one of these latest was 6 weeks. The first thing he did when he got one of these was paint it primer grey, and chop out the springs. These cars would bounce out of my work like the 'Kentucky Fried' car.
From the time he could smile he made people laugh. Always telling jokes. Always the life and soul of any party; and he partied hard. He had the amazing ability to get on with people of all walks of life and of all age groups. Most of all he was my closest friend. He knew all my secrets and told me most of his. We shared our problems with each other. When he was 17 he told me that if he hadn't had me as his mother he would have chosen me as his friend. When most teenagers wouldn't even walk the street with their parents, he not only walked with me but willingly shared his life with me. When he was older he socialised with me if I went to the pub etc. We often were out together, or he'd call in at the pub to say hello. I was very proud to have him as a son. I will always be proud to have him as a son.
There was always some girl or more on the scene. His beautiful blue eyes, and wit, had girls falling at his feet. There were times I couldn't keep up with who was the latest. They were all lovely girls. One of them I still keep in close contact with. Then came Julie - different to all the rest. She is very quiet, and very possessive. Cory, her and his closest friend needed somewhere to live so in April 1999 they all moved in with me. Julie hardly spoke and kept to herself. In May she was pregnant. Cory was just so proud, and took myself and a few of his friends out to celebrate. In June they moved out. Cory didn't want to, but Julie did. The house was just so quiet without him. Because he worked so close to me I saw him 3 or more times a day. He used to walk over with his coffee and use our milk as his boss was too mean to supply any, of course he was always wanting a smoke from someone, usually his Mum.
He tried so hard to make it work with Julie. She didn't like to go out - he did. The more he stayed home with her, the more she found other things to complain about. Toward the end of their relationship she objected to him even visiting me. We spent hours talking about their problems and there were times I spoke to her. Sadly she wouldn't budge. Because I enjoyed going out too, I understood Cory's need. In the end I asked Julie if she would go to relationship counselling with him - she agreed. They only went once. Later that week he went to a motor show with me and others. I tried to persuade her to come but she wouldn't. Before we left he bought her roses and left them in a vase with a note, for her. When he got home that night she wouldn't speak to him. The next night he had agreed to be chaperone for her brothers after-school ball party. He told me he spent most of the night thinking about what to do about their relationship. He just couldn't find any way to please her. When he got home from the party, the roses had been thrown over the drive way and Julie was sleeping in another room. He picked up his things and left. Seven o'clock Sunday morning he was back home. We talked for hours and hours. I told him he'd done all he could, that she had to try now. And that I would speak to her if he wanted. He said no, it wouldn't do any good. The next day they had another appointment with the counsellor. Cory went - Julie never turned up. He told the counsellor he was happy with his decision. He told her what plans he had for his life and that he would be there for the baby.
Cory and I talked about turning one of the bedrooms into a nursery so he could have his legal fortnightly weekends etc. Julie rang him and wanted to talk. All she wanted to know was whether or not he was moving home. He said no, he couldn't while things were the same. Then he wrote a letter stating the same. Saying how hurt he was over the roses, and that he would always be there for her and the baby, and hoped in time they could get together again when their heads were clear. A week later he was gone.
Sometime between 11.45pm on the 10th August and 12.30 on the 11th he had taken his life in our basement. He'd been out drinking with a friend. They came to see me about 10 o'clock to show me Cory's new haircut. He seemed the same person he had always been. At 11.30 he left his friends house and came home to die.
I will never know what went through his mind that night. There were no signs. All I know is when he took his life, he took mine as well. He left a void never to be filled; he took the sunshine and the laughter and the reason for living with him. A thousand times I have gone over and over everything and still can't come up with any substantial reason. I will never forgive myself for not 'seeing ' the pain he was in. All the talks we shared, how I would give anything for him to have just once, told me he wasn't coping.
Out of all the sadness, loneliness and pain, I give thanks that he has given me a beautiful grandson Jordan Cory James born 18th January 2000. But mostly I give eternal thanks that he chose me to be his mother, that he gave me 21 years, 4 months and 10 days of laughter, cuddles, and most of all - love.
Janine
Cory's Mum
1st April 1978 - 11th August 1999
William Wayne Cox
Wayne entered this world on November 2, 1987 around 1:00pm. From the first moment I saw him, I knew he was my son with no doubts. He was bald, blue-eyed and looked just like my Dad (who I take after too). As an infant, he was a good and calm baby. Not too many long and frustrating nights – that is once he got daytime and nighttime figured out. He quickly grew into his own, little personality and charmed everyone who met him. For many years, he had white-blonde hair and blue eyes and a quick smile that melted your heart. As Wayne entered the toddler years, he showed a strong interest in learning…learning about everything. He was so observant and his vocabulary quickly exceeded his age. He soaked it all in and would actually think things out…. it was so amazing to watch those ‘little wheels’ in his mind going and then the outcome of what he was thinking. And he loved the outdoors…before he could walk, he would zoom around the house in his walker. I would leave the back door open and lock the screen door, and he would sit for the longest time and watch the dogs and everything outside…with frequent squeals of laughter at the things he was watching.
By the age of two, Wayne quickly demonstrated he was a sensitive soul and always tried to make everyone happy. He actually became my ‘little defender’. During arguments with his Dad, he would come and stand in front of me, not burying his face in my knees in fear. but standing tall and straight and not looking away from his Dad. When I realized that was what he was doing…I was able to find the strength to make the final decision to leave his Dad…for Wayne’s sake. It was very difficult and Wayne was scared of men for many years after we left. Even though Wayne was allowed to see his Dad, the visitations were controlled for several years. My Dad became Wayne’s male role model and the two of them were buddies from then on out. Wayne would mimic my Dad in everything. Every morning, he would get his tie and place it around his neck; he’d then want to brush his hair and finally he would pick up his little ‘briefcase’ and he would kiss and say good-bye and then go to the door as if going to work. He was such a happy ‘fella’ around my Dad. They would spend hours together building things, doing projects or working outside.
When Wayne started to preschool, he had terrible separation anxiety. It was such a heartbreaking challenge to leave him there crying. It was a 2-day (mornings only) program but he reacted as if I was leaving and never coming back. It took weeks and weeks of extra attention from his teachers to finally get him to a point where he was calm each day. I think this is the first time I discovered how ‘stubborn’ he could be.
By the beginning of kindergarten, Wayne was ‘the man.’ All the little girls loved him and the teachers adored him too. For many years, his teachers would say ‘I wish I could have a classroom full of Waynes.” He received the Citizenship Award in his school for several years in a row. He was always so concerned about others and if they were hurt or upset, he would try to comfort them. If they did not have paper or pencil, he would loan his. His heart was so open and willing to help others in need. He was also a straight A student for many years…and it always seemed that he just learned it without a great deal of effort.
Wayne and I were more than just Mom and son…we were buddies too. As a single Mom, I tried to give him the most I could.. and took advantage of any educational experience I could. We always went to parks, outdoor concerts, nature hikes, museums, etc. He was very active and I believed in him busy and out of trouble!
I used to draw for Wayne and we would use the drawings to decorate his room. He would pick his favorite books and movies and a scene he wanted. I look at a picture and then copy it…using just pencil and shading the areas that needed color or darkness. His favorite movie was Peter Pan for many, many years. One day I noticed Wayne take a book and lie down with the pages open. He then had a piece of paper and he proceeded to draw what he saw…looking at the picture and then copying on his paper. As he grew, he’d say “I’ve got a picture in my head” and then he would draw it. He developed a wonderful talent for drawing fabulous details and I always thought he would be an architect. He had several art teachers recommend private art lessons but he didn’t want to do that. He also built complex, multi-levels forts with his wooden blocks. We would leave them up for weeks as he worked on them. Another special talent he had was mimicking accents and dialects…if he could hear it, he could repeat it and sound exactly like what he heard.
Wayne was always an outdoor guy. He loved being outside..hiking, hunting, fishing, and just messing around in the woods. He was always building 'camps' and forts and using his creativity to pretend all types of games. For many years we had a tent in the woods behind our house.
When Wayne reached his middle school years, he began to ‘assert’ his independence and sorely tested me over and over, but we remained close. His Dad began to be more active with Wayne but this came with a price. I understood that he needed to be part of Wayne’s life, but he didn’t know how to parent. He wanted to be a buddy and was little or no support for parenting ‘challenges’ and decisions. In time, Wayne began to do anything to please his Dad and try to keep him happy. He refused to see that his Dad didn’t come to his elementary school graduation, band concerts or participate in our family counseling when asked, etc. About this time, Wayne started acting out in anger. It was always directed at my parents or me...and later at his stepdad. As the family counselor said ‘we loved him unconditionally; therefore, he knew he could safely act out and still be loved.’ The counselor thought a lot of Wayne’s anger was over his Dad and the divorce. He also said that Wayne had buried the memories of witnessing his Dad’s temper yet his subconscious was very aware…and that was why Wayne tried so hard to please his Dad. Wayne was also very unhappy about moving away from Greenville, although it is only an hour and half drive back there.
When Wayne was around 11, I met my current husband. I didn’t date for many years or bring men into Wayne’s life unless I had known them for a while and had a feeling how they would do with Wayne. And then Wayne’s reaction and relationship with a man would determine if I would continue seeing that person. Wayne actually only connected with 2 men in about 7 years…and my current husband was the 2nd. Wayne and my husband became buddies and would wrestle and play and pick on each other. After 3 years of dating, we got married. Wayne actually walked me down the aisle. He was so handsome in his tuxedo and he recorded the sweetest message to me on our wedding video. Within a year, Wayne was miserable and making every day a living hell. Through family therapy, we discovered that Wayne felt that if he cared for my husband any, that his Dad would think it meant he didn’t love him. Plus his Dad was telling him, if he wasn’t happy he could live with him. (I had retained full custody of Wayne because of my ex-husband’s abusive past). Everyday was so difficult with nightly arguments, his grades dropped, he refused to help around the house, he lied about little things, etc. After 2 1 /2 years, and one solid week of terrible arguing and sleepless nights, nonstop crying and prayers, I made the hardest decision of my life…to let Wayne go live with his Dad (who had not shown any abusive tendencies in many years). Wayne moved into his Dad’s in January 2002. I thought I was sending him there to grow-up…I never dreamed of this outcome. My relationship with Wayne began to improve again and we seemed to be developing the closeness we had before. Wayne’s baby sister was born in March and he loved her so much. I couldn’t believe how he ‘took’ to her and how his whole face would light up when she was around. I made sure that every weekend he was home with us, I’d take pictures of them and I’d tell him stories about his baby days when he was her age. We got out his baby book and looked and looked at it…and he actually kept it in his room. He was so proud of her…he carried a lot of pictures of them in his wallet and would show everyone.
Although Wayne’s grades were still down and he was doing some things I didn’t approve of such as smoking…. I couldn’t interfere too much since he wasn’t in my house. His Dad would threaten discipline but never follow through. I tried to discuss things over and over with his Dad and I made contacts at each school to try and help there. Most of Wayne’s problems we thought were ‘typical’ teen-age problems. Then last fall, Wayne began seeing his girlfriend. Jenna is a sweet girl and a year older. She was his first serious girlfriend and he was so proud to be with her. He joined the JROTC and receievd several awards/medals. I thought the JROTC would be the thing to help straighten him out.
Then came his 16th birthday. Wayne spent that weekend with us. I took him to see the TITANIC exhibit, which was in town, because he was always fascinated with it when he was younger. We went out to eat and then I let him drive around for a while. He was making plans for fixing up his truck and telling me what CD’s he wanted to buy with his bday money, etc…. all plans for the future. We did the bday party with cake and presents…he was surprised that I decorated with balloons and streamers. But as I told him, I always have for his birthday and I always will. We had a really good weekend. This was the last time I saw my son..the last time I held him...the last time I touched him...the last time I looked into his beautiful blue eyes...at least he was happy the last time.
I miss him so much yet I know I’m still in a bit of denial about his death..much less death by suicide. There are so many unanswered questions about ‘why’…and I’m not sure the answers will ever be found…or if we’ll know what’s true and what’s not. The tears come and go….and that overwhelming physical pain comes so rapidly sometimes.. I know there’s such a long and painful road ahead…and I’m so scared to travel it...but I know I have to start taking one small step at a time. This past year, has taught me so much about myself..and how I deal with pain, stress and grief. From my Dad’s stroke, the miscarriages and now this…. I’ve learned enough about myself to know I can survive…and will be a stronger person in the end….but that is small comfort when compared with never holding my child again…never looking into his eyes, hearing his laughter, seeing his smile, watching his proud ‘boy-man’ walk….never being able to say “I love you’ to him ever again. He was the grandchild who was carrying on the family features…with each passing year, he was starting to look more and more like my Dad at his age. Everywhere I turn..there is Wayne…. the full moon, the hunting clothes in the Store, a teenage boy, the woods behind our house, seeing deer in the field, country music, classical rock music, movies we watched, etc. I cannot escape…and I’m not sure I want to escape…those memories remind me of my love for him…of the good times…and the bad too…but at least we were there…and we had the times together.
My family is not doing well with his death. My Dad cannot even speak or hear about him. My Mom seems to be handling it a bit better but her grief is buried because she’s the primary caregiver for my Dad since his stroke in June. My sister just says she can’t deal with it. My husband is relunctant to talk about Wayne's death because he doesn’t want to bring me more pain. ..yet he has been a 'rock' for me and kept me 'grounded' as I travel this journey of grief. And my daughter…. Wayne’s little sister recognizes Wayne in the pictures but she’s quit knocking on his door and asking for her ‘Way.’ If it wasn’t for my Parent Support group and the local SOS group, I’m not sure how I could continue. They are have been my lifelines as I swim through the ever-changing currents and riptides of grief. They each provide support, comfort and a safe place for me to talk about Wayne, without having to worry about the listener's reaction.
Wayne was far from the perfect child. And in hindsight I can see that his problems were more traumatic than we realized. His gentleness and sensitivity probably played a large role in his inability to work through whatever had happened that weekend that was the ‘last straw’ in a line of problems. At this point in my grief, it’s so much easier to remember the good times and good qualities of Wayne. I know I’ll have to face the not-so-happy days but I’m trying to take those slowly as I find the strength to deal with all the emotions that accompany those times. I’m so grateful that my last time with him was good…not in anger or distance. I have seen so many ‘signs’ from Wayne such as rainbows, butterflies, feathers, birds, etc.…each one is usually at a time when I need comfort and reassurance. My poetry writing has come back to me…. and in it is with a passion that I do not think I had before. Most of my poems are sad and heartbroken but maybe one day, I’ll be able to write something happy and carefree. Wayne’s life deserves to be remembered…and he deserves to have some good come out of it.
EA Gay
May 19, 2004 8:25pm
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