“Did mom reach out to you last night?”

“No. What happened?”

Reading that first sentence from my oldest nephew, I knew the incoming news wasn’t good, hence my reply. I instantly thought something happened to my sister or brother-in-law. Nothing prepared me for Jason’s answer.

“Patrick is gone

he died thursday night.”

That’s how I found out my youngest nephew committed suicide. It was a gut punch no one should experience, and far too many people do.

Most families struggle with why. Especially when you’re talking about a 27-year-old who, despite hitting a rough patch or two, found a better path forward. At least, that’s what we were thinking and seeing.

The bad news kept on coming

Four days later, a horrific event happened in Highland Park, IL, along Chicago’s north shore. More lives stolen and families gutted by a young man acting out on his deeply disturbed thoughts.

My parents grew up and lived there for many years. I grew up four suburbs south in Wilmette. The news hit me with yet one more gut punch. Even as I read the news reports, more dots collected over many years of expat living were connecting. I was already in the habit of asking one question after each of these tragic events. You’ll soon know what…