Stephen Folan Suicide Awareness Fund
Donazione protetta
Our dad, Steve, was a husband of 34 years to his loving wife Sharon, father of three sons and a dedicated volunteer at Austin Ridge Bible Church.
On the night of September 11, Stephen Folan took his life after a long battle against mental illness. No one in the community realized that behind Steve's big personality and smile was so much pain, and it is this thought that will forever remain a question to many of us. Such a permanent decision has life-long, devastating outcomes that ripple across our society.
Our goal is to raise awareness about mental illness and the grave impact suicide can have on families and loved ones. We have taken time to research non-profits in the community that are assisting other families going through loss due to suicide and want to do our part to help. We have identified several ways that we can help lift other families out of their despair and want to ask you to help us reach our goal of $14,000.
Your donation will go towards programs that bring comfort and financial assistance to families in the wake of suicide. We are aiming to collaborate with community organizations that assist families who are experiencing what will feel like the darkest of time. Having gone through this ourselves, we now understand the unique needs of families who may also go through this. We want to make a positive impact on their lives. Whether this means paying for psychologist visits, assisting with funeral costs, or as simple as taking the families out for a meal; we want to personally let them know they aren't alone.
Suicide should never be an option. The pain and suffering doesn’t stop when you take your life, it’s passed on to those who love you.
DISCLAIMER: In order to show the true effects of suicide on a family, I feel as though I need to tell this story completely uncensored. It is up to you to continue reading from here. This story will walk you though that entire night, no bull shit, no fluff, just everything I experienced through my eyes.
September 11 was just another day in the Folan Family. We had some old Marine Corp family friends over in the morning. That afternoon, I found I am partially color blind at my eye exam (never got to tell my dad this), shared a piece of my leftover birthday cake with my dad and went to the gym.
That evening, I had a Couchsurfing friend coming over. We were taking her out for Texas bbq for her first time and to say farewell since she was off to her next destination on her trip around the world. It crushes me this young amazing girl had to experience the worst night of my life.
I invited my dad, mother, and brother to come with us, but my dad turned me down. The last words he ever said to me were “which car are you taking to dinner?” I told him the Honda so he took off for a drive in the convertible. I didn’t think much of it. Dad sometimes like to go out on drives to cool off. It wasn’t until my mom came out asking for dad when I realized something wrong. He had taken his medication, something he does every day for his mental illnesses, but he is not suppose to drive after. My mom was getting very concerned. We called him, but he left his phone at home. I finally said,” Mom, come with us. He will be fine.” For a brief moment, my mind wandered to finding the convertible purposely crashed somewhere. But he done this before, why make myself worry.
So we left, ate a ton of BBQ, and gave my friend the best Texas send off I could think of. On the way home, I even joked that she wouldn’t have a better Couchsurfing experience.
When the garage door opened, and I saw the convertible, a wave of relief washed over me. But that relief quickly vanished when I saw the note on the door. It was in my dad’s handwriting “You’ll find me by the grill”. My stomach dropped. I knew something was wrong. I almost told my friend to leave, and looking back I wish I would have.
I sprinted through the house to the backdoor which had a suicide note tapped to it. In that moment, I didn’t even read it. I had to see if I could help my dad. I went right to where he said to find him. All I could see were his feet and a tarp under him. As I sprinted to him, my first thought was maybe it was pills. If it is pills I can save him. But as I got closer, my eyes following up his body, I saw the pistol in his hand. And then the blood.
I immediately jumped into action to do everything in my power to save my dad. I dropped to my knees to check his pulse. Beneath my fingers, I felt his heart beating faintly which meant there was a chance. I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but I did have the heart to pick up his head. I knew the impact of the bullet would have caused irreparable damage to the back of his head.
I screamed to the others to stay in the house. My mother, little brother, and friend did not need to see this. But human nature is filled with curiosity and wanting to help. It was then that my mom laid eyes on my dads body and let out a scream that will forever haunt me. She came over, cradling his face, trying to wake him up before Evan brought her inside the home.
I asked my friend to call 911. She’s from Portugal, so she did even know what that was. She couldn’t tell them our address because this was the first time coming over. So I took the phone to help. After giving them all the information, I was told to do CPR on my dad.
I have seen a lot of fucked up things around the world, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment. I put my hands together and listened to their instructions. The night was so silent. All I could hear was the air leaving my dad’s lungs and the cracking of his ribs beneath my hands. With each compression, blood started flowing from his mouth and the back of his head. I was screaming at 911 that I was doing more harm than good. He was losing too much blood. After what felt like an eternity, I could see the flashing lights. The ambulance had arrived. They could take over from here.
I ran out to the front to bring them to my dad, hoping there was something they could do. Once they got to his body, I went back inside the house and straight to the bathroom. I threw up, not once, but twice. All I could think about, as the demons came out of me, was that Hollywood does get this right. Experiencing something like that does not just have psychological and emotional effects, but physical as well. I was in absolute shock. I felt like I was in a nightmare, just hoping to wake up.
When a gun is involved in a death, the police have to rule out homicide. Immediately upon their arrival, the police put up crime scene tape left and right. I felt like a complete stranger in my own home. It was then that we found the shotgun my father left out for us to find. Then found the box of 45 rounds left out on the desk which had only one bullet missing. Only then did I have the chance to read the suicide note that my father had left before it was taken as evidence. Then it hit me, I was a potential suspect in my father’s death.
We were rounded up by Detective Paul Salo, who interrogated us. Getting the details of that night, he was trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. During the interrogation, I realized I still needed to poop which I had been holding since our drive home from dinner. After the interrogation, I had the chance. Of course I asked for permission, and they told me “yes you can go, just don’t wash your hands (they wanted to check for gun powder!!??!?)
At first, I was shitting and stinking and then I was sitting and thinking. I was trying to process what I had just lived. I didn’t even have the chance. I heard someone yell,” Sheriffs Office!” So I yelled back, sitting on the toilet, that I was in here. My mother and brother told them I was using the bathroom upstairs. Yet again “Sheriffs Department” to which I responded, “I am in here taking a shit!” As if that wasn’t enough, I hear it one last time “Sheriffs Department!” So I screamed back “ I am in here taking a fucking shit!” I’d had enough, I couldn’t even have alone time in a place that is suppose to give you privacy. I pulled up my pants and walked out to an officer with a pistol drawn ‘sweeping the house’. Mind you, this was over an hour after they had arrived on scene. What a joke.
So I went back down to join everyone. I didn’t know how I was feeling. So many emotions. Anger for what my dad did to our family. Sadness because I realized I no longer have a dad and my mom is now a widow. Puzzled because I couldn’t completely wrap my mind around why my dad did this.
Over the next 3 hours, many people came and went. It was as if I was at a red carpet event because the flash of the cameras even made it through the closed blinds. There must have been over a thousand photos taken of my dads body and scene. At this point, I felt like I was a main character in a Netflix crime show. It was surreal.
Four hours after my father killed himself, they took his body away. We draped a flag over him since he proudly served in the Marines and deserved this honor. In our front yard, we said our final farewell. The medical examiners then started asking my mother more questions. It was relentless and the same questions we had already answered. I politely told them we would not do this in our front yard, so we went back inside.
I then had a thought… what about the blood? I asked Detective Salo if they had cleaned out back. Even though dad had been kind enough to lay down a tarp, I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t contain it all. Salo responded, “ there’s still blood, but nothing a hose can’t clean up.” I couldn’t believe that a man who had served 28 years on the force could be so insensitive to a grieving family. So my mother, brother and I went out back and hosed the pools of my fathers blood off the porch. And I mean pools. All the while, that coward Detective watched us do it. This should have never happened. It baffles me he made us do that. My dad was kind enough to pull the trigger next to the hose, and not one of those 15 plus people had the courtesy to wash away the blood.
Finally all of the people left but the nightmare continued. It was just us, left alone with our thoughts as reality started to sink in. I had a lot running through my mind. My dad would never get to see my younger brother fully heal after living through a car wreck that should have killed him, exactly 50 days earlier. My dad was suppose to be a grandpa next month when my older brother is due to be a father. My dad will never get to see me marry the girl of my dreams. It started to sink in that this man is gone forever. And he is going to miss out on so many of our major life events. He had never mentioned suicide once to me, so I never expected him to do this.
We eventually fell asleep for a couple of hours. And then woke up right back in this nightmare. The effects I have seen this suicide have are not just confined to my immediate family. It reaches further than you could ever imagine. In his note, my dad mentioned that his wanted to take away the pain. The destruction of his actions throughout his life were not just magically resolved after he pulled that trigger. Instead, they were passed on to all of us who are still living. Suicide does not take away the pain and the hurt. It just transfers it to those who loved you.
But… There is always good to be found even in the darkest of times. I am the most positive person on the planet, so I like looking for the goodness in Gods Plan. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. We have been showered with love by so many people across the world, which shows how many people cared about my dad. Thank you to each of you who have reached out. We were able to donate almost all of my father’s organs and saved 60 peoples lives. 60 people get a second chance at life just like my younger brother.
Suicide doesn’t define a family. This is just a chapter in our lives. As one chapter comes to an end, another begins. I am excited for this next chapter and all the good that will we do.
Please, it you have made it this far… share this story. It is one that I hope will show everyone the reality of what they might put their family through if they decide to end their life. IT IS NOT WORTH IT! Trust me.
Love Y’all… keep living life fully!
Brent
On the night of September 11, Stephen Folan took his life after a long battle against mental illness. No one in the community realized that behind Steve's big personality and smile was so much pain, and it is this thought that will forever remain a question to many of us. Such a permanent decision has life-long, devastating outcomes that ripple across our society.
Our goal is to raise awareness about mental illness and the grave impact suicide can have on families and loved ones. We have taken time to research non-profits in the community that are assisting other families going through loss due to suicide and want to do our part to help. We have identified several ways that we can help lift other families out of their despair and want to ask you to help us reach our goal of $14,000.
Your donation will go towards programs that bring comfort and financial assistance to families in the wake of suicide. We are aiming to collaborate with community organizations that assist families who are experiencing what will feel like the darkest of time. Having gone through this ourselves, we now understand the unique needs of families who may also go through this. We want to make a positive impact on their lives. Whether this means paying for psychologist visits, assisting with funeral costs, or as simple as taking the families out for a meal; we want to personally let them know they aren't alone.
Suicide should never be an option. The pain and suffering doesn’t stop when you take your life, it’s passed on to those who love you.
DISCLAIMER: In order to show the true effects of suicide on a family, I feel as though I need to tell this story completely uncensored. It is up to you to continue reading from here. This story will walk you though that entire night, no bull shit, no fluff, just everything I experienced through my eyes.
September 11 was just another day in the Folan Family. We had some old Marine Corp family friends over in the morning. That afternoon, I found I am partially color blind at my eye exam (never got to tell my dad this), shared a piece of my leftover birthday cake with my dad and went to the gym.
That evening, I had a Couchsurfing friend coming over. We were taking her out for Texas bbq for her first time and to say farewell since she was off to her next destination on her trip around the world. It crushes me this young amazing girl had to experience the worst night of my life.
I invited my dad, mother, and brother to come with us, but my dad turned me down. The last words he ever said to me were “which car are you taking to dinner?” I told him the Honda so he took off for a drive in the convertible. I didn’t think much of it. Dad sometimes like to go out on drives to cool off. It wasn’t until my mom came out asking for dad when I realized something wrong. He had taken his medication, something he does every day for his mental illnesses, but he is not suppose to drive after. My mom was getting very concerned. We called him, but he left his phone at home. I finally said,” Mom, come with us. He will be fine.” For a brief moment, my mind wandered to finding the convertible purposely crashed somewhere. But he done this before, why make myself worry.
So we left, ate a ton of BBQ, and gave my friend the best Texas send off I could think of. On the way home, I even joked that she wouldn’t have a better Couchsurfing experience.
When the garage door opened, and I saw the convertible, a wave of relief washed over me. But that relief quickly vanished when I saw the note on the door. It was in my dad’s handwriting “You’ll find me by the grill”. My stomach dropped. I knew something was wrong. I almost told my friend to leave, and looking back I wish I would have.
I sprinted through the house to the backdoor which had a suicide note tapped to it. In that moment, I didn’t even read it. I had to see if I could help my dad. I went right to where he said to find him. All I could see were his feet and a tarp under him. As I sprinted to him, my first thought was maybe it was pills. If it is pills I can save him. But as I got closer, my eyes following up his body, I saw the pistol in his hand. And then the blood.
I immediately jumped into action to do everything in my power to save my dad. I dropped to my knees to check his pulse. Beneath my fingers, I felt his heart beating faintly which meant there was a chance. I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but I did have the heart to pick up his head. I knew the impact of the bullet would have caused irreparable damage to the back of his head.
I screamed to the others to stay in the house. My mother, little brother, and friend did not need to see this. But human nature is filled with curiosity and wanting to help. It was then that my mom laid eyes on my dads body and let out a scream that will forever haunt me. She came over, cradling his face, trying to wake him up before Evan brought her inside the home.
I asked my friend to call 911. She’s from Portugal, so she did even know what that was. She couldn’t tell them our address because this was the first time coming over. So I took the phone to help. After giving them all the information, I was told to do CPR on my dad.
I have seen a lot of fucked up things around the world, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment. I put my hands together and listened to their instructions. The night was so silent. All I could hear was the air leaving my dad’s lungs and the cracking of his ribs beneath my hands. With each compression, blood started flowing from his mouth and the back of his head. I was screaming at 911 that I was doing more harm than good. He was losing too much blood. After what felt like an eternity, I could see the flashing lights. The ambulance had arrived. They could take over from here.
I ran out to the front to bring them to my dad, hoping there was something they could do. Once they got to his body, I went back inside the house and straight to the bathroom. I threw up, not once, but twice. All I could think about, as the demons came out of me, was that Hollywood does get this right. Experiencing something like that does not just have psychological and emotional effects, but physical as well. I was in absolute shock. I felt like I was in a nightmare, just hoping to wake up.
When a gun is involved in a death, the police have to rule out homicide. Immediately upon their arrival, the police put up crime scene tape left and right. I felt like a complete stranger in my own home. It was then that we found the shotgun my father left out for us to find. Then found the box of 45 rounds left out on the desk which had only one bullet missing. Only then did I have the chance to read the suicide note that my father had left before it was taken as evidence. Then it hit me, I was a potential suspect in my father’s death.
We were rounded up by Detective Paul Salo, who interrogated us. Getting the details of that night, he was trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. During the interrogation, I realized I still needed to poop which I had been holding since our drive home from dinner. After the interrogation, I had the chance. Of course I asked for permission, and they told me “yes you can go, just don’t wash your hands (they wanted to check for gun powder!!??!?)
At first, I was shitting and stinking and then I was sitting and thinking. I was trying to process what I had just lived. I didn’t even have the chance. I heard someone yell,” Sheriffs Office!” So I yelled back, sitting on the toilet, that I was in here. My mother and brother told them I was using the bathroom upstairs. Yet again “Sheriffs Department” to which I responded, “I am in here taking a shit!” As if that wasn’t enough, I hear it one last time “Sheriffs Department!” So I screamed back “ I am in here taking a fucking shit!” I’d had enough, I couldn’t even have alone time in a place that is suppose to give you privacy. I pulled up my pants and walked out to an officer with a pistol drawn ‘sweeping the house’. Mind you, this was over an hour after they had arrived on scene. What a joke.
So I went back down to join everyone. I didn’t know how I was feeling. So many emotions. Anger for what my dad did to our family. Sadness because I realized I no longer have a dad and my mom is now a widow. Puzzled because I couldn’t completely wrap my mind around why my dad did this.
Over the next 3 hours, many people came and went. It was as if I was at a red carpet event because the flash of the cameras even made it through the closed blinds. There must have been over a thousand photos taken of my dads body and scene. At this point, I felt like I was a main character in a Netflix crime show. It was surreal.
Four hours after my father killed himself, they took his body away. We draped a flag over him since he proudly served in the Marines and deserved this honor. In our front yard, we said our final farewell. The medical examiners then started asking my mother more questions. It was relentless and the same questions we had already answered. I politely told them we would not do this in our front yard, so we went back inside.
I then had a thought… what about the blood? I asked Detective Salo if they had cleaned out back. Even though dad had been kind enough to lay down a tarp, I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t contain it all. Salo responded, “ there’s still blood, but nothing a hose can’t clean up.” I couldn’t believe that a man who had served 28 years on the force could be so insensitive to a grieving family. So my mother, brother and I went out back and hosed the pools of my fathers blood off the porch. And I mean pools. All the while, that coward Detective watched us do it. This should have never happened. It baffles me he made us do that. My dad was kind enough to pull the trigger next to the hose, and not one of those 15 plus people had the courtesy to wash away the blood.
Finally all of the people left but the nightmare continued. It was just us, left alone with our thoughts as reality started to sink in. I had a lot running through my mind. My dad would never get to see my younger brother fully heal after living through a car wreck that should have killed him, exactly 50 days earlier. My dad was suppose to be a grandpa next month when my older brother is due to be a father. My dad will never get to see me marry the girl of my dreams. It started to sink in that this man is gone forever. And he is going to miss out on so many of our major life events. He had never mentioned suicide once to me, so I never expected him to do this.
We eventually fell asleep for a couple of hours. And then woke up right back in this nightmare. The effects I have seen this suicide have are not just confined to my immediate family. It reaches further than you could ever imagine. In his note, my dad mentioned that his wanted to take away the pain. The destruction of his actions throughout his life were not just magically resolved after he pulled that trigger. Instead, they were passed on to all of us who are still living. Suicide does not take away the pain and the hurt. It just transfers it to those who loved you.
But… There is always good to be found even in the darkest of times. I am the most positive person on the planet, so I like looking for the goodness in Gods Plan. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. We have been showered with love by so many people across the world, which shows how many people cared about my dad. Thank you to each of you who have reached out. We were able to donate almost all of my father’s organs and saved 60 peoples lives. 60 people get a second chance at life just like my younger brother.
Suicide doesn’t define a family. This is just a chapter in our lives. As one chapter comes to an end, another begins. I am excited for this next chapter and all the good that will we do.
Please, it you have made it this far… share this story. It is one that I hope will show everyone the reality of what they might put their family through if they decide to end their life. IT IS NOT WORTH IT! Trust me.
Love Y’all… keep living life fully!
Brent
Organizzatore
BRENT FOLAN
Organizzatore
Austin, TX
