On December 29 at 10:00 pm, I held my son Harrison’s hand and played his favorite music as he slipped away. Thirty years of love led to this heartbreak, with the final years marked by a relentless struggle against mental illness that ultimately claimed his life. After a tragic accident and a devastating fire, Harrison spent 32 days fighting for his life in the burn ICU. The experience was harrowing, like standing on the threshold of despair. When the care team told us there was nothing more they could do, we made the agonizing decision to let go. Watching him grow weaker, his mom and I held his hands, offering comfort and a father’s blessing to be at peace and join God. My deepest gratitude goes to the Medstar Washington DC Hospital doctors and nurses; their skill and compassion were a source of comfort in our darkest hours.

Harrison was my firstborn, and he lived every moment with boldness and joy. An accomplished rock climber and passionate outdoorsman, Harrison thrived in nature—whether scaling cliffs or casting his line in Lake Cleburne, his favorite spot. His adventurous spirit and warmth made everyone feel part of his world. Harrison’s kindness and open heart were legendary; he brought happiness wherever he went. He never spoke ill of others and treated everyone with genuine respect and grace. His deep loyalty to friends and family was unwavering—if you needed him, he was there without question.

Now, my heart is shattered, and my love for Harrison is limitless. Without him, my life will always feel incomplete. I will hold onto his memory and love him, fiercely and forever.

We must speak openly about mental health, especially as professionals.