Tyler Parsons was in a dark place. The darkest, actually. And the rising sun was doing nothing to brighten his mood.
Completely undone by anger and anxiety and depression, he was slumped in the passenger seat of his mom Kim’s car and bound for Detroit Metro Airport on the Fourth of July.
But Parsons never reached his destination.
Because Kim – upon hearing an emotional outburst from her son, including chilling rants about suicide, about his desperate need to make the pain stop – was so alarmed, so upset, so scared, that she immediately pulled over.
Parked near the airport, planes flying overhead, she told Parsons that she would not be dropping him off.
Meaning the young man would miss his early-morning flight to Calgary, where he was scheduled to participate in the Flames’ development camp.
“He goes, ‘I have to go, Mom,'” said Kim. “I said, ‘I don’t care. You’re not going. Call the guys who sent you the ticket and leave them a message that you’re not getting on a plane.’ That’s exactly what we did. I called the (Flames) and said, ‘I’m not putting him on a plane … when he’s feeling like this. And then for him to be in a hotel room by himself for a week? No.’ We turned around and we went home.
“That was kind of the breaking point.”