My precious Zachary was born 10/13/1992. He was my first born. As a little guy, he was funny and had a flair for the drama. He loved to dress up in various costumes. In middle school, he went through the typical struggles in finding himself but we made it through. In high school, he shined on stage in lots of plays. Drama was obviously his thing! Goth was also his thing; he was famous for his Tripp pants which he wore long after the fad faded away. After high school, he attended our local community college. He wanted to be a tattoo artist. He loved all forms of the fine arts. He loved to sketch, he played multiple instruments, he wrote music, he wrote lyrics, he acted in plays and also performed improv when he had the chance.
I loved his brand of humor. Not everybody got his jokes. He never failed to make me laugh or at least smile with his quick wit and sarcasm. It was just the two of us at home one day and I was sick with a stomach bug. I informed him that it was his duty to hold my hair while I puked. He looked at me so seriously and as he rolled a hair band off his wrist said “Mom, I have a friend I would like to introduce you to. His name is hair band and he will be happy to help you. I, on the other hand, am going back to my room.” It make me laugh even though I felt so badly.
Zachary had such a kind soul and gentle heart. I will never understand why he chose Christmas Day to end his life. The entire month of December we had such fun together. We Christmas shopped and I helped him wrap all the gifts he had purchased for others. One of the last shopping trips we made, there was a young woman who appeared roughly his age standing on the side of the road. She was holding a cardboard sign that read “My girls are hungry”. He insisted that I pull over so he could give her the last $3 in his wallet. It did not surprise me; that was the true character of my son. I wish I could find that young woman and let her know that his final act of kindness was for her.