Collin had returned to visit Betsy and her family just 15 days before he died. He only
stayed one day and Betsy knew immediately he had changed.

“He wasn’t himself. We knew he was coming. We wanted him to come. I think
what he wanted to do, was to tell us…that it was coming because we were all here and he said, “I love you I thank you for everything you did for me. Putting up with. I don’t know…I just don’t feel right.” And then he said he forgot something with his sleep apnea gear and couldn’t stay since he needed that to sleep. I don’t think he wanted to do it here.

He said, “I didn’t think life would be like this again”, and I said, “I don’t understand that
Collin, you’ve done so well!” “You do not understand how bad it is, mom,” he
said, “and I know that you struggled with sadness”. He said, “but you just don’t get it
mom”. I said, “Collin, we’ll help you.” He said, “You can’t help me for the rest of
my life” At that point I wanted to give him whatever he needed . He said “I just got to go.
I love you and I will always love you.”

As hard as they tried, they could not convince him to stay.

“Collin called us and talked to us while he was waiting for his plane and said, ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out. It’ll be OK‘ “

With that sentiment, there seemed to be a droplet of hope lingering in the air. Then 15 days later there was a knock on her door from the local police informing her of her son’s death. She learned that he was found in his apartment and was thought to have been there several days before being discovered.

“I screamed, ‘You can’t do this! You didn’t do this! We need you, Collin!’ I wanted to see
him to say goodbye. They recommended that I did not. It’s just … Collin had sensory
integration issues when he was little and he hated to be touched, and then he loved to be
touched, and then he hated to be touched, but he became a real loving touching son for those three years that we had that were so good and I needed to touch his hand and just
say goodbye…but it didn’t happen.”

Like Betsy, I never got to see my son to say my final goodbye. My sister was the one
who convinced me not to see Izzy after he was discovered. She said, “That’s not him anymore. You don’t want that to be the last image you have of him.” I explained that I only wanted to touch his hand. I did not need to see any other part of his body. She told me, “it will be cold” and for some reason that resonated with me and helped me to heed her advice.

During moments of distress when I had to make quick decisions, I do not know what I would have done without her sage guidance. It is interesting that like Betsy, I just wanted to touch his hand one last time. What was it about their hands that had been instinctual for us? Perhaps our brains were trying to protect us from seeing their bodily injuries, or was it even deeper than that? Holding someone’s hand during moments of distress is an act of compassion. Maybe we needed them to comfort us one last time as we knew we could no longer comfort them.