It was a day like most others at the time. My Dad had died not long before, and life was feeling a bit overwhelming as it often does at times of grief. Still, I was functioning, moving through a world that had been turned upside down.
I don’t remember what I was doing at the time the call came in. I rarely answer unknown numbers – too many spam calls to deal with. But something made me pick this one up.
“Hello, Lee? This is Sarah, James’ boss over at MW Gymnastics. I’m with James in the hospital.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened?” “Is he ok?” “Where is he?”
“We brought him to Emerson. He said he wanted to kill himself.”
Her voice was calm, but her words shattered me.
That was the second time James had been suicidal. The first was the summer after fifth grade.
Back then, his teachers told him he was a “bad kid.” His classmates teased and bullied him. At just 10 years old, my son told me he thought the world would be better without him. Those were the most painful words I’d ever heard.
James is a beautiful soul; he is kind, compassionate, wise beyond his years, and he would do anything for anyone. That summer, he was finally diagnosed with ADHD. When he was hospitalized again in 2011, additional mental health diagnoses followed, along with regular counseling. And for a while, things got better.for a while.
He found his way back to landscaping, the work he’d loved since childhood. His boss was his uncle. He lived with someone who had known him his whole life and he was working for his uncle. Both had been given detailed instructions about what to watch for—warning signs, red flags, when to call me.
But his uncle didn’t believe in mental illness.
Instead of offering support, he turned against James. The person James lived with dismissed the sick days, the migraines, the withdrawal. By the time they called me, it was too late. We were headed back to the hospital.
This was when James’s invisible illness became a recognized disability.
And then came the day when I saw my son smile again! I cried when I saw the picture of him meeting Nelle, his life-saving service dog.
She didn’t just help him manage symptoms—she reminded him he wasn’t alone. She gave him purpose, grounding, and love without judgment. With Nelle by his side, James was able to return to the work he loved.
Thank you, Nelle, for saving my son.
Thank you for bringing him back to me.
Nelle is the best and we are so thankful for her being there for James