Sean‟s story
This is what happened to Sean, my son. I’m not going to write everything about him, it’s impossible to tell a whole life, even if he was just 18.
He died last year on 24th October.
I’ve always thought that outliving one’s child would be terrible, but just now I realize that you can’t survive at all. A piece of you stop breathing, and die, leaving a gap that cannot be filled.
Saturday the 23rd was a clear, pleasant day. After school we had lunch together, talked, laughed.
But everything that day looked weird.His plan for the evening was going to a gig in Liverpool.
Before leaving he came home to take his wallet. That was the last time I saw him alive.
When he arrived at the place, he found out that the concert had been cancelled, but he spent the evening there as well. That’s what his mates said. They cannot be defined friends: that night one of them sold Sean some drugs. It’s wrong, but no one dies because of it.Sean was in perfect health, he played a lot of sports and had a lot of plans for the future. He loved his life.
The evening spent, everyone was tired, so they decided to go home. It was 5 am. Sean wasn’t so tired. Someone offered him a lift, but he refused. He was close to home, he would walk back.
I don’t know why, but at that time I woke up, wondering if Sean had come back. Then I heard a noise from his room, so I was sure he had. When I woke up, it was about 8 am. He wasn’t in his bed, so I started calling and texting him. Nothing.
I hoped he had lost his mobile phone.
Then someone answered. The voice immediately asked who I was, and to describe Sean. Then he said he was a policeman, he had found the phone on a park bench. He said they were having controls and he hung up.
Immediately I called the police headquarters. Nothing. The operator said he had not been informed, and as soon as he had some news, he would call us.
Nothing for other three hours!!!
The police called us at about 11 am, after they had taken his body away from the street. My son’s corpse had stayed in the middle of a street from 6 to 11 am. And no one had called me. The police said that a local resident had called them because he had heard someone screaming.They said he had hurt himself banging his head against a wall.But from the examinations it turned out that he was disfigured by strokes. They said he had put up resistance, he was just a drug addict. His clothes were covered of blood. Doctors said his scrotum was squashed, he had a lacerated and contused wound on his head and a lot of marks of blows on his whole body.
I saw him in the coffin. His body looked drawn up and no longer symmetrical. The ambulance had been called when it was already too late. By the time they got him in hospital there was no chance left even for an extreme operation. They had left him there, on the street for too long. Five hours. Then they took him to the morgue. And that was when they called us.Why?
On the newspaper of the following day there was an article that stated he had died because of an illness.Up to this day I haven’t seen the official medical exams results yet.
Draw the conclusions yourself!
