Twenty-Two Missed Calls: The Moment I Knew My Worst Fear Had Come True

“Chris, Wake Up!  Chris, Wake Up!  Chris, Wake Up!"  

That voice didn't sound right in my dream.   The voice sounded like it was coming from a distance.  It sounded like Caroline's voice.  There was a sound of urgency, almost desperation, in her voice.   The voice didn't disappear.  The sound of urgency in Caroline's voice persisted as my eyes slowly opened, the transition from the disconcerting dream to the waking world marked by her desperate pleas.

Earlier that night, I had taken two Gravols and put my phone in the other room for the first time since we went down this challenging journey with Maddie’s struggle. The kids weren’t with me this week.  I needed to sleep.

It had been a difficult week for me.  I haven’t been a great sleeper for some time.  They say having kids means you’ve had your last great sleep for the rest of your life.  The events of the last five months only added to my insomnia.  Having gone through two suicide attempts by my daughter, Maddie, since December 2014 was justifiable for the lack of rest.  

Like most days since December, it started on the 7th floor at North York General Hospital in the Youth & Adolescent Mental Health Unit. Nicole and I found ourselves in the familiar yet emotionally charged space, meeting with Lisa, the resident social worker in the unit. Lisa, a beacon of empathy, dedicated her days to making a profound difference in the lives of countless kids and their families residing in the unit. In the numerous sessions I shared with Lisa, her genuine care ended in tears that welled up as we navigated the turbulent waters of our struggles. However, this particular meeting surpassed the usual emotional intensity.

As the weight of the last five months bore down on me, frustration mingled with the swelling emotions, and I couldn't contain the stream of tears that broke free. The experience of being a parent to a child who questioned whether she wanted to live was a relentless emotional storm, with promising days overshadowed by countless challenging ones. Every tear shed held the weight of a thousand unspoken fears, and the vulnerability in that room was palpable. Despite our attempts at optimism, an underlying doubt lingered—a constant companion in our arduous journey, echoing through the silent sobs that punctuated the heaviness of our hearts.

Exiting the meeting with tears streaming down my face, I was met by Maddie's gaze. Attempting composure, my puffy eyes and runny nose showed my inner turmoil. Maddie, sensing my distress, approached with her trademark gentle and caring smile. At that moment, she enveloped me in a tight embrace, whispering, 'I love you, Daddy.' Her hug, normally comforting, held an unforeseen weight that I would only come to understand later.

Little did I know that it would be the last time I saw Maddie.

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“Wake up, Chris!”  It was Caroline’s voice.  Caroline and I had been dating for the last couple of years after our marriages ended.  It took me a moment to shake the effects of the Gravol I had taken a couple of hours before.  I looked at my Fitbit.  It was 11:39 pm on Friday, April 10th.  Still dazed, I got out of bed and walked to the front door of the house I had been renting.  I had inadvertently latched the chain in addition to locking the door.  Now, it made sense.  Caroline had a key to my house but couldn’t get in because of the chain.  I opened the door to see Caroline and her daughter Melissa.  Both had a look of alarm and concern on their faces.  I felt my heart in my stomach.  I knew this wasn’t good.

Caroline told me I needed to call Nicole.  Nicole was my ex-wife and the mother of my three children.  My 13-year-old son, Zac, had contacted Caroline because he couldn’t reach me.  Zac had assumed Caroline would know how to get ahold of me.

I picked up my phone; I had twenty-two missed calls. A cold rush seeped through my body as I dialled Nicole. I didn’t know the details, but I knew it involved Maddie. My head and heart went to a place I had feared for the past five months, but I knew it was different this time.

I got Nicole on the phone. Her voice was shaking. She explained the text she had received from Maddie an hour before. Maddie had sent a message saying she loved us and was saying goodbye. Nicole had traced her location using Find My Phone. Maddie then turned off her phone.

I had felt it earlier with the cold rush that overcame my body, but on some level, I knew we had lost her.

I told Nicole that I was coming over to her place. Zac was with her, but Sawyer had a sleepover at a friend’s house.

I slowly drove over to Nicole’s house. It was a 10-minute drive, but it felt a lot longer. I didn’t want to face the news that was in store for me, news that I already felt the pain from. It was a surreal feeling as a wave of emotions came over me.

I turned onto Bayview Avenue, the familiar route etched into my muscle memory. The bright lights of the Granite Club, where Maddie had swam competitively for years, flickered in the distance. On the bridge leading to Toronto French School, where Maddie had spent her early school years until Grade 8, I passed two police cruisers with their lights flashing. The stark contrast of the vibrant lights against the darkness of the night intensified my unease. My breath quickened, and a cold sweat broke across my forehead. The sensation of nausea gripped me, almost forcing me to pull over. Just a couple of minutes away from Nicole’s house, the feeling mercifully settled, allowing me to continue the sombre journey.

I pulled onto Nicole’s street and saw Nicole, Zac, and my former in-laws pacing on her porch. I pulled up in front of her place and parked. I had barely stepped onto the porch when a police cruiser pulled up. The officer exited the car and slowly sauntered towards us on the sidewalk. I hoped he would walk by us, but I knew his presence was intended for us. He walked toward the porch, looked down at his feet, and gently said, “I’m sorry.”

We had lost Maddie. She was only 14 years old