Drew Thomas Russell

I used to be amazed when I watched police shows on television and they would ask the question “What were you doing on Thursday the …………..”. I would think, “What a stupid question, as if anyone would remember what they were doing on a certain day all those years ago“.

I can now tell you that Friday 5th March, 2004 is etched in my memory bank like it was yesterday. It was the day my son Drew died through suicide. The day my world as I knew it was to be shattered and changed forever.

I would not be able to tell you one thing about Thursday 4th March, the day before, but I can remember every second of that Friday. Even things that happened before I was told that Drew had hung himself. What I had for lunch that day. Who I spoke to and when. When I started to fear something dreadful was about to happen to our lives and I could not understand why I had these feelings. The urgency to contact Drew, when I had no reason to contact him. What I had cooked his sisters for dinner that night, and when the police arrived with my sister to tell me my son was dead. Everything.

And I can tell you everything that Drew did on that day as well. As so many other parents that have lost a child to suicide will understand, you need to know every detail of their last day to try and make some kind of sense for the actions they took that ended their life.

There were some time frames of that day that we did not know where Drew was, and my husband was on a mission to find those missing hours. As he described it, it was like solving a jigsaw puzzle, finding all of the pieces to put the picture together. We had to know everything to give us those answers, but like most suicides, Drew had taken those answers with him. We can only assume why he took the actions he did on that day, and I think that the assumptions that we have come up with for him taking his life is more because WE need an answer – even if it is not the right one. We needed a box to put it in, so we found one. It helps us a bit with the grieving process.

Drew was born on November 28th 1985, along with his twin brother Rory. Their father and I had separated when I was 5 months pregnant, but he was there for their birth and had contact with them for the first few months of their life. After that, he visited the boys once a year for their birthday for the first four years, but there was not a lot of contact throughout their lives. Even though they did not have their father in their lives, I have a wonderful close family and many friends, so they were shown more love than a lot of children that have two parents living together and not that tight knit family. They were well adjusted, deeply loved, happy children.

When Drew was three and a half years old I met my second husband Peter. He took Rory and Drew on as his own sons and loved them just as much as he does his own biological children that we have had since. I pity the person who ever tells Peter that he was not Drew’s real father. I know the pain of losing Drew has been just as intense for Peter as it has been for me, both shedding as many tears as each other. I know quite often Peter felt he had let Drew down, because I had given birth to Drew, but he was given the honor of becoming Drew’s father. He felt he owed him more for this. I know that Drew was so proud to say that he was Peter Russell’s son. And he was.

One thing that Rory has remarked on, and also Drew’s close friends have said since his death, is that Drew had a lot of anger towards his biological father. He showed these emotions when he drank alcohol. His father was not a bad man, but showed no sense of responsibility. I think the lack of contact throughout the years (he would make contact, then they would not hear from him for a few years) had left a scar on Drew. On his 18th birthday he made the comment that his father had not sent him a card. This was 12 weeks before he died. His biological father had not had any contact with Drew for four years when he died.

I think the hardest part of Drew’s suicide has been the fact that we could not see this coming on. We saw no signs of depression and struggle when people say he must have been depressed. Even after his suicide, we still cannot see depression, other than the normal ups and downs of an 18 year old young man. We actually believe he was a very happy person. The act of him taking his own life bewilders us still today. This is something we never thought our son would do. I run the actual moment of him taking his life through my head regularly, and I am so confused, because I keep thinking “How could you even think of doing this Drew, suicide is something that I thought would never have enter your mind.” That’s the tough one. Your child has done something that is so opposite to what you thought they would do, that you start to question whether you ever really knew them.

So who was Drew Thomas Russell? One of the most remarkable young men I have had the privilege of knowing. As mentioned before, Drew was the twin and best friend to his brother Rory, a big brother to his sisters Kirby and Abbie, and the most wonderful son to his parents Sandra & Peter. Peter and I would often say how blessed we were to have the perfect family. Drew grew up on the farm with a normal boy’s childhood. He had Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and friends that loved him very much. He did the normal childhood things like boy scouts, soccer, rugby union, played the guitar and all the other things young boys do. He did well at school. His biggest love for the few years before he died was his skateboarding. I am sitting here trying to think of how to describe Drew, and I am overwhelmed with how much I could and would love to write. But time does not allow.

One memory I will always have of Drew is so in-significant, but in my heart explains to all what Drew was made of. One day, I asked Drew to run into the supermarket and grab some milk and bread while I sat in the car waiting outside. As Drew was waiting in line at the checkout, an elderly lady stood in line behind him. He looked at the lady, smiled, and the next thing I could see from the car was him letting this elderly lady go before him at the checkout. She would not have had to wait long, he only had two things in his hand. As I sat watching this act, the feeling of pride was overwhelming. I remember at his wake, another elderly lady that I did not know, walked up to me and told me that Drew had been working at her home just before he died. He was an apprentice refrigeration mechanic, and he was helping install a new stove into her kitchen. She told me my son was a gentleman, and that he reminded her of the men from her generation. The day of his funeral, she cooked three cakes to take to Drew’s wake in the stove he had helped install. One for every week since she had the stove installed.

Now, I don’t want to have you all think my son was an angel. Trust me, he was your typical young Aussie bloke and loved to have a drink with his mates. He was shy, but only until you got to know him. He was cheeky. He was a peace keeper, but would have a blue if he believed you had wronged him, his family or one of his friends. He loved riding his motorbike on our farm with his brother, and was so happy when he could finally beat his father in their many rumbles. It meant he was finally an equal to his father – a man. He was his twins other half, and totally adored his little sisters. He was the most loyal friend that you would be lucky enough to have. He was respectful of people and had impeccable manners. Something that made his parents very proud. Did I mention he was cheeky? And he had a smile that would make you melt.

One thing I am so happy about, is that Peter and I have always told our children how very proud we are of all of them, and I remember telling Drew only the day before he died how proud I was of him for something he had done. I also remember him telling me how proud he was of me as a mother. How is a mother supposed to let go of someone so beautiful and special.

I will not go into the details of Drew’s death, as we can only speculate as to what he was thinking when he decided to take his like. I can tell you that the night preceding his death, (Drew took his life on the morning following this night) Drew was with his friends at a local hotel, and then when the pub closed, proceeded to a friend’s house for a few more drinks. Everyone that I have spoken to that was with Drew on that night were in shock to hear of his death, especially to suicide, as he was in a fantastic mood. I am told of them all playing rugby and tackling each other on the front lawn and having a great time. Drew was very drunk (as we know from the alcohol reading in his autopsy) and we believe that this played a significant part in his decision to end his life.

I think the hardest part for me being a mother has been that all of my years of being a mother, I could always fix things when they went wrong. A scraped knee, a schoolyard disagreement, a broken heart, but this is one thing that I just can’t fix. I cannot change this or make it go away, and there is no escaping it. It is there whether I like it or not, day in and day out, and it will be like this until the day I die. I had no say in his decision, and he was far too young and drunk to make such a big decision on his own.

Some people say kind words, and you are told time and time again that your child will always be in your hearts. But I don’t just want him in my heart, I long to hear his voice, see his beautiful smile, laugh at his rude jokes, smell his sweet scent, and hold that beautiful body that I gave life to. I just want him back.

Sandra Russell
29th June 2009
Written, 5 years, 117 days and 2 hours since I last saw, spoke to and kissed my son, Drew.

* Since Drew’s death, I have become involved with the Cowra Loss and Suicide Awareness ground (CLASA), and the Orange Suicide Prevention Network. I have changed careers and now work with children in the Special Education Department. I have undertaken many MHFA courses, and Suicide Prevention Workshops. I have also initiated and been involved with an annual day of remembrance held in Cowra, NSW for people touched by suicide. This based on the Hope For Life day held by the Wesley Mission, and my involvement with Mort Shearer and Craig Willis who worked with Wesley Mission. My son Drew will not die in vain.