When we first moved here, one of the first people that Dylan met was a chatty, kinetic, kid named Dean. He accepted Dylan without reservation and quickly became a friend.
About six months ago, something changed for Dean.
He seemed troubled. Dylan mentioned issues at school and drug use. In late August, Dean showed up at Dylan's shack (his bedroom down by the pool) asking for help. I was in the US at the time. Apparently, Dean shared that he was really sad and that things were not good at home. He was clearly, seriously, depressed. Dylan used the word, "suicidal". Dylan asked him to wait in his room while he walked over to meet Dallas and Olivia at my in laws house to have dinner. Once there, Dylan told Grammy and Papa about Dean, which caused an immediate panic. Dallas hadn't made it home from work yet so Dylan and Grammy drove back to our house where Dean was picked up and driven to his own home. The whole event was tense, weird and uncomfortable because it was obvious that something was really wrong but not one person could articulate exactly what "it" was. All that we knew was that Dean was a problem and that we didn't want Dylan anywhere near it. I felt like Dean was a threatening black hole that if he wasn't careful, Dylan could fall in. It scared the shit out of me.
Several weeks later, one of Dylan's other friends asked him to return a Nintendo DS that he had borrowed from her. He opened his night table drawer to discover the DS and its charger were gone. We turned the house upside down looking for it. Dylan suspected Dean had taken it and I reminded him that being a problem kid doesn't make one a thief and that it was more likely was that he (Dylan) had misplaced the DS or left it somewhere. Truthfully, I was a little disappointed that Dylan would assume the worst. His lack of personal responsibility bothered me.
In September and October, we didn't hear much about Dean except to learn that he had spun out of control and that most of his old friends avoided him. Dylan had very little time for him. He was convinced that the DS had walked out the door in Dean's coat pocket and as a result, he didn't like him or trust him anymore.
On November 24th, as we were heading out to dinner, Liv told me that she saw someone walk down the driveway towards Dylan's room. I went out onto the balcony and saw Dean slip through the gate and walk into Dylan's shack. A minute later, he walked out, looked up and I waved to him indicating that he should go to the front door.
I opened the door and gently asked that the next time he come to visit, that he please come to the front door, first. Without meeting my eyes, he nodded, mumbled his apologies and asked to speak with Dylan. The entire exchange lasted thirty seconds and left me feeling anxious. Dylan chatted with him briefly and then sent him on his way telling me that he didn't want anything to do with him.
"What did he want?" I asked
"Someone to talk to," Dylan replied.
We didn't view that request at face value because of the missing DS and the fact that we'd had items go missing from our garage when the door was open. Dean seemed to be a kid who had a problem with drugs and we felt that given the opportunity to steal, he would, presumably to fund his drug habit. On that Saturday night, Dallas and I delayed our departure by about half an hour as I didn't feel comfortable leaving the house right away. Like Dylan, I didn't trust Dean.
On the evening of the 28th, after dinner, Dylan came into our bedroom, pale. He'd received a call telling him that Dean had been found dead in a small nature reserve about 1/4 mile from our house.
We have since learned that this child hanged himself with a garden hose.
In the several days since learning of his death, we have run through the gamut of emotions from shock to disbelief to guilt to profound, heartbreaking, sadness. This past Saturday, Dylan was at Dean's house for a gathering organized by his family. The family was able to shed some light on Dean's state of mind. They felt that he was lost to them for months and that he just didn't want anymore "help". Dylan went over expecting to find a shabby house and an aloof family. He wanted to be able to blame a terrible home life for Dean's death. Instead, he met a perfectly lovely mum and dad and two older sisters in the throes of unimaginable grief. I think it was important for him and for all of the kids that attended to understand that mental disease, depression and drug addiction are not reserved for the disenfranchised or the abused. They are equal opportunity afflictions.
In Dean's room, Dylan found his missing DS. There was no joy or satisfaction in learning that his suspicions were right. The discovery just deepened his sadness. He made the decision not to say anything.
Two days ago, Dylan visited the spot where Dean took his life. That night, he finally cried for the loss of his friend. He is consumed with guilt for turning Dean away. He is working through that with a school counsellor.
I know that these awful things happen. I have seen unmedicated depression before. I understand drug and alcohol abuse. None of that makes this any better, though.
Dean turned sixteen just days before he died.
Tomorrow, we will lay him to rest.
I hope that with time, we will all find a measure of peace in the shambles that is this tragedy.
