Ashton playing Enekonge with Uncle Andy

Introduction: sometimes we are asked for background on what led up to Ashton’s suicide. I am writing this mostly for my benefit – to help organize my thoughts and feelings – but you are welcome to look over my shoulder in this process. Because there is a lot to say, I have broken my comments into four parts. Today is Part 1. I will send the next post on Wednesday.

Ashton has been the quietest of our four children. When he was learning to talk, his older sister and brother would often finish his sentences for him. Faye would remind them to let him finish – but Ashton would say, “That’s what I wanted to say.” Sometimes he would stammer. We had him meet with a speech therapist in middle school, but the therapist didn’t think the stammering was affecting his ability to communicate or his self-esteem. When we asked Ashton, he didn’t think it was, either – so we didn’t pursue that further.

After his mission, Ashton told Faye, “Mom, now that I know what depression feels like, I think I was depressed in middle school and high school.” We just thought he was our quiet kid.

From a very early age, Ashton would sometimes suppress his tears when he was injured or sad. One time, he was given a shot of penicillin in the butt for strep throat. Faye could tell that it really hurt and he wanted to cry, but he really tried hard to suppress those tears: he hid his face and didn’t want anyone to talk to him.

Ashton was fairly socially-active growing up; he had some good friends that he enjoyed being around. Several of them didn’t like eating lunch in the school cafeteria, so their mothers would take turns hosting them in their homes. Faye enjoyed having the “lunch crowd” over for lunch when it was her turn. Sometimes I was there. Ashton seemed to genuinely enjoy his interactions with the other youth – and they seemed to genuinely enjoy being with him — even though he was one of the more quiet ones in the group.

Because Ashton was quiet and gentle, some of the other boys found him an easy target to pick on – but I don’t think it was excessive or malicious or any more than I remember being picked on growing up. For the record, I do not blame Ashton’s suicide on bullying – nor do I harbor any malice toward any of his classmates.

Ashton played basketball in middle school and all four years of high school. He was an excellent free throw shooter and would often shoot when there was a technical foul called on the other team. He ran the mile as a freshman in track. His main goal was to not be last – and I think he achieved that! He played football as a freshman, but didn’t enjoy it enough to play the next two years. When there was a new coach his senior year, he was excited to play and surprised the coaching staff by being one of the more difficult players to replace when he graduated – as offensive guard. He lifted weights and really beefed up. He was an excellent blocker.

Ashton loved to play any kind of game and was an excellent strategist. Sometimes he would lose intentionally so his younger brother, Jacob, would want to play with him again. Sometimes he would play against himself, playing all the other players, also. One New Year’s Eve, he and I stayed up past midnight playing Lord of the Rings Risk. His uncle Andy also loves games; they often played a game that Andy invented called “Enekonge” (“one king” in Norwegian) and Ashton knew the rules cold. He loved playing computer games like Starcraft. He, Jacob and I would often play Starcraft at my medical office.

Ashton very much wanted to attend the University of Arizona, and had plans to attend after attending Eastern Arizona College in Thatcher for two years. He eventually wanted to be a radiologist; he shadowed a radiologist friend of mine for a day when he was a senior in high school.

Ashton decided to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but didn’t feel quite ready when he turned 19 – so he worked at R&R Pizza  in Safford and The Caboose in Thatcher for another six months while he finished preparing. When it came time for him to leave, he was very excited to be going to Fiji – the same mission my parents had served in 25 years prior. I really don’t think we could have persuaded him to NOT serve his mission; he REALLY wanted to go! When we dropped him off at the airport in January 2012, we each gave him a hug, told him we loved him and then he quickly picked up his bags and took off, not looking back! He was going on a mission! After training in Utah for twelve weeks, he called us from the Los Angeles airport while on his way to Fiji. We teased him that we were doing something fun (I can’t remember what it was) and he wasn’t here to enjoy it. His response was, “Well…I’m going to Fiji!”

Ashton was a perfectionist. Learning to speak Fijian was very difficult for him. Making mistakes in speaking Fijian was especially difficult. I think the Fijian people are fun-loving and would tease him about his Fijian; I think he let that get to him. When he returned home from his mission, he sounded amazing at the language to us. One of his missionary companions said that the kids in Fiji would sometimes say in Fijian, “Look, some white people!” Ashton would respond in Fijian, “Where? Where?” He would talk to them in Fijian and half-convince them that he was born and raised in Fiji.

To be continued… Part 2 will come on Wednesday.

Written by Carter