Michael Schilling reacted on this
One year ago, my son Shaun took his life.
He was 21. A junior at Berkeley. Brilliant, social, and full of potential. at least that’s what the world saw.
Were there signs I didn’t see? Yes.
Was school pressure a factor? Yes.
Did our family conflict, divorce, and the pressure to pretend everything was fine play a role? Absolutely.
Was trying to present a picture-perfect relationship to protect my kids part of the problem? Yes.
I thought because Shaun had friends, a girlfriend, good grades, and a social life, he was okay.
But I didn’t check in with his mind, his soul on a daily basis. And that haunts me.
A year ago yesterday, Shaun called me. I answered but told him I’d call him back.
That was the last time I ever heard his voice.
Now, when my daughter calls or needs anything, no matter what I pick up. I text back. I show up.
Shortly before he passed, Shaun and I talked about how I should raise his sister differently.
He said:
- Watch the social media use
- Limit the video games
- Make sure she engages with real life family events, presence
- Don’t let divorce feel like destruction. try nesting or something more gentle
He was telling me everything he needed, too.
I live in a zip code where image, job titles, house values, and net worth seem to matter more than mental health. Where cliques are formed and people take calls over connecting with their kids. Where the appearance of a happy family is more important than the truth.
Let me be clear-
You will not care what people think if you lose a child.
You won’t care about your social standing. Or your title. Or your curated life.
You’ll care about the moments you missed.
So if you’re reading this, check in with your kids. With yourself. With your family.
Look past the filters and the A’s on the report card.
Ask the hard questions. Be uncomfortable. Be real.
Because I would give anything for one more uncomfortable, real moment with my son.