Learning from loss

Josh Horner lost his parents, grandparents, aunt and best friend within the space of a few years. Here’s his story

My name’s Josh, and I am a 29 year old college student, coach, and aspiring motivational speaker. Life is beautiful and I am living happy! However, things were not always this way. Here is my story.


College, the great frontier. It can be the scariest yet most rewarding experience of one’s adult life. I was no different. I was nervous but excited to see what college had to offer me, who I would grow into, and what new friends I would make. I was lucky enough to go to a school close to home- Shippensburg University. I was luckier still to be able to play football there.

The day I left for football camp is etched in my mind forever. As I started the journey to Ship with my parents I was full of excitement. However, as the time and miles diminished the feelings of confidence and excitement were soon replaced with apprehension and self doubt. Was I good enough to go here?

As we pulled into the parking lot for football registration and I looked around, dread filled my entire body. Men the size of NFL players were walking around signing up. I was suddenly so scared. I told my parents to take me home, I did not want to do this. My mom started crying but my dad held fast. He looked at me and said if you don’t do this you will regret it for the rest of your life. He got out and opened my door, and I reluctantly stepped out.

As I sat there after the hell of college football camp, making it passed cuts and becoming apart of the team, I smiled; my dad was right. I felt a sense of pride in myself and admiration for my father.

You see, my dad and I never had a solid relationship. We fought constantly and it always felt like we had conflicting views on ultimately everything. However, my leaving for college created a situation in which he and I started to develop a bond that had been absent for some time.

I was very homesick, and being a red shirt freshman I did not travel with the team. My dad, knowing this, offered to pick me up each weekend the team was away to take me home. He would drive 2 hours every other Friday for the whole season to pick me up. On those rides home we connected. It was awkward at first but we soon started to enjoy and even look forward to the trips home from Shippensburg. I recall a time I even said “I love you” to him on the phone, and he said it back but then followed up with “don’t tell your mom, she will think something is up.” That is how bad our relationship was prior to our trips. I was so hopeful for our relationship to grow until I was given the most horrifying news of my life.

My father committed suicide in my second semester of college on the bike path behind our home on February 4, 2007. He had been struggling with depression and anxiety for so long and unfortunately saw no other option. It shook the foundation of everything I thought I knew, and it changed my life forever.

At the age of 18, I was fatherless and filled with so many questions.

I tried to fill the shoes that my father left but I was so scared. I thought I needed to act tough and show no emotion. I thought I had to be the man of the household, that my mom and sisters would look to me, but I was not even sure what that meant.

I decided to come home from college and be there for my mom, Winnie, and two younger sisters, Katie and Abbie.We tried to lead normal lives but we were broken. Sadness and eventually anger seeped into our family, tearing apart the structure I held so dear.

My mom was completely beside herself. I would catch her crying quietly only for her to smile and act like she was okay. She lost the love of her life and still tried to make the best for my sisters and I.

However, her health was fading fast as fibromyalgia, psoriatic arthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, and diabetes took their toll on her body and her mind.

She was trying to hold everything and everyone together, but it was all falling apart.

My sisters were away at college and I had just been kicked out of school for fighting while intoxicated, so I had a lot of time at home with my mom. She had changed. An overwhelming sadness engulfed the once cheery, happy woman. It was so hard to see. The best woman I have ever known in a state of constant sadness. I resented my father for some time because of this.

My parents

This resentment turned to anger propelled me into a life of drinking. I looked for any reason to drink my feelings and my problems away. I was out at some bar almost every night of the week, pretending to be happy, and at times, I thought I was. My mother saw this and tried to talk to me about it, but I thought it was nagging. I recall a moment when she wanted to go to the movies and I said I couldn’t because I wanted to go out with my friends (to get drunk). I saw the sadness in her eyes, but she insisted that I go be with my friends. All she wanted was to hang out with me. She loved me so much and for everything she sacrificed for me, I could not even make the time to go to the movies with her; I thought drinking was more important. I regret this every day of my life.

On November 19th 2009, my mother passed away from a blood clot in her lung.

I had just lost the most precious woman in my life in the blink of an eye. No warning, nothing. She died and I never got to say goodbye. With her death, I lost a part of me. I desperately miss her so bad.

So, at the age of 21, I had lost both parents.

We had inherited a large sum of money from them and that seemed to help for a while, but it did more damage than good I began to spend money and buy things to fill the void my parents had left. I traveled the country, doing what I did best – partying. I would buy hotel rooms for my friends, bottle service at the bars, and every and anything else in between. I was wasting my life away and I was too oblivious to notice.

So with the loss of my parents, I was lost.

I started to accumulate coping mechanisms in the form of drinking, shutting off my feelings, pretending I was happy, and sexual encounters. Running from my problems, responsibilities, and feelings became second nature. I thought by not dealing with my issues, that they would simply go away. I could not have been more wrong.

I would often speak a great game about how I was okay and that everything happens for a reason, but inside I was a complete mess. I would cry myself to sleep, praying to wake up from the nightmare my life had become. Why me? Why! I would scream at the four walls of my bedroom. Sometimes, I would not leave for days.

As the years went on, and I tried to get my life together, I reached out to my remaining family members for help and guidance and started to develop a stronger relationship with my Dad’s parents, my Nana and Pappy. They needed help around the house and I was often there, cutting the grass or helping to carry in groceries.

We had never really been close growing up but it felt good to be around family again and the bonds we were creating felt real and worth it.

Unfortunately, Nana took my father’s death extremely hard. She could never move forward and I believe did not want to. She passed away from a heart attack while I was away partying in Mexico.

A month later, my Pappy committed suicide, unable to cope Nana’s death in the Spring of 2011.

I was becoming less-and-less attached to reality. I continued to act as if nothing had happened to me and that it did not affect me. I was great at wearing the smiling mask.

I eventually enrolled at the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown in the fall of 2011 and befriended another non-traditional student, Brian.

Brian knew my story and he reached out to me because he knew what going through trauma did to a person.

Brian was a larger-than-life guy. Standing at 6’5” and having the biggest smile, he lit up a room. Brian was a Purple Heart Veteran of the Iraq war, where he saw and did unspeakable things. He carried a lot of that pain and I related with him. We quickly developed a strong bond.

We faced our depression, anxiety, and PTSD together, relying on each other to get through the darkest of our days. He was there for me when my Aunt, and Godmother, Karen passed away from breast cancer in the Spring of 2012.

I had a vey hard time with this because until her death I acted as if she was not sick. I did not want to come to terms with her failing health as I had with the others before. I was not strong enough to accept the fact she was not going to make it. I wish I would have visited her more.

But time moved as it always did and summer was soon upon us. Brian had graduated from UPJ and was holding a small get-together to celebrate with his girlfriend, her friend, and myself.

Things were going great until something changed in Brian. He became quiet, as a million thoughts probably rushed through his mind. He also became very aggressive and angry. The look on his face still haunts me to this day. It was not him…

Brian pulled a gun from behind his couch. Time came screeching to a halt. He moved, in what seemed like slow motion, around the living room, yelling with anger in his eyes but I am sure sadness in his heart. He looked distraught, weighing the options in his mind. I was terrified as he moved into the kitchen, fearing for myself and the girls around me. I thought at that moment I was going to see my parents and I even prayed for them to not let it hurt. In an instant, however, it was over. Brian turned to me and pulled the trigger. He died from a gunshot wound to the head instantly on June 4th, 2012.

I was completely destroyed. I had lost so many people and I wanted to give up. I went through the motions of life and did not care what happened to me.

I locked myself away in my room at school and did not leave for 5 days, only to work out. I knew something was wrong and I finally called my primary care physician.

I was diagnosed with severe depression, severe anxiety, and PTSD.

It confirmed what I already knew, but solidified the fact that I needed help. In an odd way, this diagnosis had a negative effect on me. I realized now that these issues were out in the open, I should not hide behind them, but in a lot of ways I did. Being diagnosed made my issues real and it scared me. So, I used it as an excuse.
I continued to hide behind my diagnoses. I pretended that I was getting help and that I was trying, but I wasn’t. I was still lost. I continued to drink and party, trying to escape the pain I dealt with each day. With my drinking, I became violent. I was getting into fights and ruining so many friendships. I was spending money like crazy and the bills were piling up. Going to class and passing them seemed to be the most difficult part of school, as my anxiety creeped to the forefront. Things were rapidly falling apart and I was completely indifferent.

So almost three years after Brian’s death, I found myself broke, homeless, and failing out of school. At one point, I was living out of my jeep in the sports center at college. It was horrible. I had lost it all. I was a mess. All I wanted was to go home and be safe. I wanted to wake up and hear my mom tell me everything was going to be okay, that I was dreaming. I only slipped further into my depression.

Katie, Abbie and I

One day, I said enough. I was going to take my own life. I felt that I had completely messed up everything. I lost the most valuable people in my life and I ruined a lot of relationships with the ones that were left, so what was the point in living? I got a knife and a six-pack of beer and drove to my parents’ grave in the mountains of western PA.

I sat there drinking, and crying, trying to build up the courage to slice my wrists when I was interrupted by some text messages. They were from my sisters. I had reached out and did not entirely disclose my plan but I told them I loved them and that I was sorry and that I was proud of them. Their responses ultimately saved me that day. They told me how much they were proud of me, how they loved me and still believed in me. I was shocked, I did not think anyone had any faith left in me, but they did. A change happened. I looked up and realized that maybe all that I have been through; the pain, the loss, the mistakes, all of it, could be used to help someone else who might be going through similar events. So finally with purpose, I stood up, a new man.

Love saved my life that day, and I have never forgotten it.

In the time since, I’ve put effort into myself. I hold myself to a higher standard and actively seek help from friends, family and counselors when I need it. I am not ashamed of who I am anymore. I see life in a different light and can say for the first time in almost 10 years that I am truly happy. I have taken control of my life and the responsibilities that come with it.

Now, ten years after my fathers death, I am back in school pursuing my bachelor’s degree, working full time, coaching and playing rugby…and I have found purpose with NWJL, my motivational speaking movement.

Love has got me here and love is what pushes me still.

So, as I embark on this journey with No Words, Just Love, I know in my heart that this is the way for me. I aim to be a shining light in the darkness that so many experience. By sharing my story, I hope to inspire, help, and motivate people to never give up and to strive to be better each and every day! Love is the cure for our wounded world. Love is the answer!

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University of Pittsburgh