My Son Didn’t Text Back That Morning. Then I Got a Call Every Parent Fears

On July 3, 2020, I received the most horrific phone call, a call that no parent wants to receive, a call that changed my life forever.
Earlier that morning, I texted my son Jack to see when he might be coming home from his friend’s house and never heard back.
I went about my morning running errands, unbothered by the fact that Jack hadn’t texted back yet.
Yet, I did text his best friend to see if he spoke to Jack and he responded that he would try to call.
It wasn’t long after that l got the call. I had zero sense of what was to come. Zero.
The caller, Jack’s dad, stammered as he screamed: “He’s gone! Jack didn’t wake up!”
I dropped to my knees and let out the most blood-curdling scream. NO! NO! NO! Absolutely guttural.
Jack went to celebrate his friend’s 21st birthday on July 2 in Marlboro, New Jersey. At some point that evening Jack ingested what he believed to be a Percocet.
Only it wasn’t. It was an illicit pill laced with enough fentanyl to stop my son’s heart.
One month prior to Jack’s passing, he created a company called Happy Jack.
Happy Jack is an online lifestyle brand and community designed for those struggling with mental illness, like Jack did.
Jack struggled with anxiety and bouts of depression and painting and design became his therapy.
Everyone loved Jack. He was both handsome and charismatic, and ridiculously funny, too.
He was fearless in every sense of the word. Jack lived fast and hard and I truly believe he would not have changed a moment. When Jack loved, he loved down to his very core. He was fiercely loyal to those he loved.
Anxiety affected Jack in the sense that he would become overwhelmed easily. The concept of a lot of school work, assimilating to college, and yes, even running the very business he created, Happy Jack, made him anxious.
Jack couldn’t eat or sleep. Anxiety became very physical. Depression. Jack would say he lived in the gray; always trying to “create” happiness which we know comes from within.
Happy Jack showcases Jack’s designs on apparel with a portion of the proceeds going to mental health foundations. From the very first week of Happy Jack sales, Jack donated $1,000 to the Child Mind Institute.
Jack’s dad and I became committed to continuing what our son started to honor his legacy and to amplify his mission. Jack was transparent about his struggles, he wanted to change the world.
He wanted to make this world a better place by speaking openly and by letting other kids know that they were not alone in their struggle with mental illness.
We feel a huge sense of responsibility to help other kids struggling like Jack did.
As such, we continue to use Jack’s designs on new products and have since donated more than $100,000 to mental health foundations including Active Minds, Born This Way, Release Recovery and Charlie’s Song, to name a few.
There was never a question as to whether or not we would continue Happy Jack. This is for Jack and for the millions of kids who suffer from anxiety and depression like my son did.
Fentanyl awareness and education have been added to our mission as we face an epidemic of grave proportions. Jack could easily be your son. Kids struggle. They make mistakes—although fentanyl is a mistake that one cannot learn from.
How I miss my sweet boy.
Jack taught me the art of transparency. He didn’t care what others thought and simply did what made him happy. Jack wanted everyone to hold on to that belief. Jack hoped to change to world. I do believe he has. Certainly my world.
Mental illness is not something we can fix as parents. It is something we can help our kids manage. Know that kids who struggle with mental health have a higher propensity to use recreational drugs. Fentanyl has made that impossible.
There is no such thing as a recreational drug. According to the DEA, seven out of 10 illicit pills contain a lethal amount of fentanyl.
I say this because I don’t want my story to become someone else’s.
Bradi Nathan, Jack’s mom, is co-owner of HappyJacksWorld.com, Florida.
All views expressed are the author’s own.
This essay was produced in partnership with Evermore, a national nonpartisan nonprofit dedicated to making the work a more livable place for all bereaved people.
Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? See our Reader Submissions Guide and then email the My Turn team at [email protected].