This is my son, Jackson. He died four years ago today. He was only 20. I was standing in a very busy hotel lobby in Chicago trying to check in when I received the call. I was in town attending one of my favorite industry design shows, Neocon.
My husband had been trying to reach me. His first words to me when I answered were, “Are you sitting down?” And then he just said it. “Jackson is dead.”
The next thing I remember I was being picked up off the floor. I also remember hearing someone screaming. That someone ended up being me. I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of strangers. I still had the phone in my hand. Those strangers, who turned out to be hotel staff, picked me up and put me in a car. I was being taken back to the airport.
That five hour flight back to Los Angeles is still something I can’t fully grasp. United Airlines cleared an entire row for me on the plane. The flight attendants gave me pillows and a blanket. I was told the galley was their area but it was now mine, too. If I needed, I could stand in the galley away from all of the curious glances. I could see the concern in their faces. A mother shattered and facing a long, painful journey home. The flight attendants encouraged me to try and hold it together as best I could. If I lost control, the pilots would have to land the plane and they knew how much I needed to get home.
Staring out the window, I gripped those pillows along with the boxes of tissue they supplied me and I sobbed. When I felt like I needed to scream, I took myself to the tiny airplane bathroom and screamed into one of the pillows. I never asked if they heard me, but the sadness in their faces told me they did.
By the time I landed, the media had learned of Jackson’s death and it was all over the news. Paparazzi began their hunt to find us- to get the story. What should have been a very private family tragedy became a very public one.
So why am I sharing this very private pain on a very public and professional forum? That is a good question. This weekend I will be headed back to Chicago. It will be the first time back to Neocon since Jackson died. So it may be to let all of my many dear friends and colleagues here on LinkedIn and from around the world who I haven’t seen since my last Neocon know that, while my life was shattered in that one instant and though I will never be the same, I am ok. And that, despite the heartbreak I carry inside, I will be so happy to see each and everyone of you in Chicago. And to let you know that it is ok to talk about Jackson and ask questions. In fact, I love talking about Jackson. It may also be because one of my biggest fears is that Jackson will be forgotten. No parent wants their child to be forgotten.
So when we see each other in the hallways, in the showrooms and at the Happy Hours this next week, know I will be truly so happy to see you all again and so thankful for the privilege I had to be Jackson’s mom.
This is my son, Jackson. He died four years ago today. He was only 20. I was standing in a very busy hotel lobby in Chicago trying to check in when I received the call. I was in town attending one of my favorite industry design shows, Neocon.
My husband had been trying to reach me. His first words to me when I answered were, “Are you sitting down?” And then he just said it. “Jackson is dead.”
The next thing I remember I was being picked up off the floor. I also remember hearing someone screaming. That someone ended up being me. I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of strangers. I still had the phone in my hand. Those strangers, who turned out to be hotel staff, picked me up and put me in a car. I was being taken back to the airport.
That five hour flight back to Los Angeles is still something I can’t fully grasp. United Airlines cleared an entire row for me on the plane. The flight attendants gave me pillows and a blanket. I was told the galley was their area but it was now mine, too. If I needed, I could stand in the galley away from all of the curious glances. I could see the concern in their faces. A mother shattered and facing a long, painful journey home. The flight attendants encouraged me to try and hold it together as best I could. If I lost control, the pilots would have to land the plane and they knew how much I needed to get home.
Staring out the window, I gripped those pillows along with the boxes of tissue they supplied me and I sobbed. When I felt like I needed to scream, I took myself to the tiny airplane bathroom and screamed into one of the pillows. I never asked if they heard me, but the sadness in their faces told me they did.
By the time I landed, the media had learned of Jackson’s death and it was all over the news. Paparazzi began their hunt to find us- to get the story. What should have been a very private family tragedy became a very public one.
So why am I sharing this very private pain on a very public and professional forum? That is a good question. This weekend I will be headed back to Chicago. It will be the first time back to Neocon since Jackson died. So it may be to let all of my many dear friends and colleagues here on LinkedIn and from around the world who I haven’t seen since my last Neocon know that, while my life was shattered in that one instant and though I will never be the same, I am ok. And that, despite the heartbreak I carry inside, I will be so happy to see each and everyone of you in Chicago. And to let you know that it is ok to talk about Jackson and ask questions. In fact, I love talking about Jackson. It may also be because one of my biggest fears is that Jackson will be forgotten. No parent wants their child to be forgotten.
So when we see each other in the hallways, in the showrooms and at the Happy Hours this next week, know I will be truly so happy to see you all again and so thankful for the privilege I had to be Jackson’s mom.
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