Our friend Scott needs our help

On September 21, our dear friend Scott posted this heartbreaking story online:


Today, around noon, I woke up and found my mother dead.

Something I hate to admit that, but I guess isn't even important anymore, is that for the last year and a half or so my mother and I have had to share a bed, due to our economic circumstances.

When I woke up, I tried waking up my mom because we had important errands to run. There was a small pool of blood next to her head. I tried waking her up by yelling and playing annoying alarm clock sounds on my iPhone, but nothing worked. I flipped her over and her face was covered and her nostrils were filled with blood. She was cold and I knew that at that point there was nothing I could do.

I called 9-1-1 and it didn't take long for them to confirm that she was gone.

I don't know what happened, but she did bang her head into something in the bathroom a few days ago. She sent a photo of her face to my uncle (retired pharmacist) and he recommended she get medical attention. But we are poor and neither of us drive. We would have had to wait five business days to get someone to see her. She decided to wait it out, and then this happened. She did not abuse drugs or alcohol.

Now, since I lost my father in 2013, both my parents are gone. And in both instances it was me who had to find their bodies.

My mother was the closest person to me in my life. She was the one who knew me from birth. She knew that I had been experiencing symptoms of mental illness from a very young age, when one day in the car I had been scratching my face until I was covered with blood. From then on I would ride with mittens strapped to my hands so that I could no longer harm myself.

We got into a huge fight yesterday, and it was all my fault. I was simply expressing frustration at the fact that we are in extreme poverty, had never had our own rooms for four years, and I saw no way out of it because despite out efforts, we were not getting offers for better housing.

I cut myself for the first time since college, and now my left arm is completely sliced. I did it only to release endorphins, and shortly after the cutting I fell asleep. (I had also cut my right arm, but the knife was too dull at that point, so I gave up.)

I take solace in the fact that I did apologize and reconcile with her, but the fact that that will be my last memory is something I will never get over.

So now I no longer have a family. I have no siblings. My uncles both live in New England and cannot visit me due to COVID restrictions. I do not have, and will no longer have, someone who loved me as much as my mother did. I will spend the rest of life in pure solitude.

I cannot afford a funeral. My mom wants to be cremated and for a Catholic priest to bless her, but that's all we can do. Since she hated Norfolk/Virginia Beach, she does not want her ashes spread, so they will likely be given to me. The funeral home informed me that an autopsy will only be conducted if they decide one is appropriate.

But it doesn't matter. She's gone. I do not have a family. I have my psychiatrist and my psychologist and the people who will be relocating me. But my family is dead and that's all that matters.

The discussion that followed that post, where condolences are being offered, can be found here.

Scott desperately needs our emotional and financial help.  We are here to help one of our own at his utmost time of need.

Please donate whatever you can afford, to help Scott navigate his next steps in life.  Anything helps.