Maureen Walgren knew one day she’d give her own account.
The basic facts were already known, published in the news stories about the death of her 16-year-old son, Corey. About how the Naperville North High School student took his own life on Jan. 11, 2017, after being confronted by Naperville police about the “child pornography” — a recording of a consensual sexual encounter with another student — he made and allegedly shared with friends. About how police told him he might have committed a criminal act and could have to register as a sex offender.
Police had only an audio recording of the sexual encounter, but Walgren believes the situation brought Corey an immense amount of shame and that led him to the downtown Naperville parking deck from which he fell that January day. His death was ruled a suicide.
In the years that followed, there were many conversations about how the incident was handled. The Walgren family would sue Naperville School District 203 and the city for how they dealt with the situation. They would start a nonprofit to encourage schools to be sensitive in how they approach student discipline. A state law was created mandating that parents be present when minors are questioned by police on school grounds.
“It was such a unusual story,” Walgren, 53, said. “When it happened, it took the community by surprise. It took us obviously by surprise. There were so many questions and so many rumors that came out at the time because of the circumstances surrounding that day and how he died. It just felt kind of natural to, at some point, really put out my side of the story because we (had been) quiet.”
But the story Walgren wanted to share was about much more than her son’s death, she said. In her self-published memoir, “Invisible Threads,” available for purchase April 12, she offers a look at how a family rebuilds their lives after unimaginable loss and shares stories of survival and hope.
“I would say for the first seven years, I would not have been able to sit here and tell you about my story without crying, without it being super emotional,” Walgren said. “So this is a testament to where I’m at in my healing, to be able to tell my story now and to talk about it.”
BEFORE AND AFTER
Walgren was at her job as an elementary school nurse in Glen Ellyn when she received a phone call about her son in the middle of the afternoon from a Naperville North dean.
“I had a busy office full of kids that were in there for various things, but the dean had my undivided attention,” she said. “I took the call but I remember the way I felt, my heart sinking down into my stomach.”
She drove to Naperville North in a panic, but Corey was not there when she arrived. A few hours later, she would learn what had happened.
That same day, her husband Doug lost his job.
The days and months that followed were a whirlwind.
Corey’s hockey team at Naperville North came to the Walgrens’ home the night he died to offer the family support. Cards from community members were dropped in their mailbox, meals and flowers left at their doorstep. More than 2,000 people attended Corey’s wake.
Doug’s father died three weeks after his son. They would learn 19 employees at Edward Hospital and its affiliates had accessed Corey’s medical records without authorization. An internet troll started harassing Corey’s friends and making false claims about her son, prompting a police intervention.
“It was just an unbelievable time,” she said. “I look back and I can’t even believe we survived it. We were just in this survival mode for so long.”
Walgren had started her school job just five months before her son’s death and because she was responsible for her family’s health insurance, she could not take time off from work to grieve. She and her husband still had to take care of their then-14 and 11-year-old children, Josh and Shannon, but it felt like they were “barely parenting,” she said.
“I remember times where I was just barely making it through the day, and all I wanted to do was go to bed. I would get into bed, and Shannon would come into my room crying and wanted to talk,” Walgren said. “And I was like, ‘Oh, my God, how am I going to do this? She needs my support right now, and I am absolutely drained.'”
Couples who had gone through similar tragedies told Walgren it would never get better.
“That’s when we kind of made the decision, like, ‘No, it has to get better,’” she said. “We can’t live in this hell for the rest of our lives.”
LEARNING TO HEAL
Walgren credits grief coach Tom Zuba with helping her and Doug reclaim their lives. It required hard work and active choices. There was “no magic pill that takes the pain away,” she said.
For Walgren, that started with gratitude.
Though it seemed cliched at first, Zuba taught Walgren that even on her darkest days, she could be grateful for something, even if it was something as basic as electricity or a roof over her head. She learned to make self-care a priority, something she never did as a busy mom of three.
“What we learned is small things add up throughout the day,” she said. “I really love a peppermint latte during the holidays. If I was having a bad week, I would stop on my way to work and get a peppermint latte. I would buy myself sunflowers and it would brighten the room. Sometimes I’ll just buy them for no reason, whereas before I didn’t do those things for myself.”
Doug played a critical role in her healing journey, she said. The couple bought a vacation home in Door County, Wisconsin, and prioritized traveling together more.
“He doesn’t raise his voice. He’s very grounded and laid back,” Walgren said. “He’s the only one that really, truly understood what it was like to raise Corey and what it was like to love him and what it was like to lose him. So there really wasn’t anybody else that we could turn to that truly understood the depth of our pain.”
In her day-to-day life, her son is still with her, she said. When she finds coins, she says it’s a coin Corey sent. When she sees a cardinal land on her bird feeder, she knows it’s Corey saying hi.
“We definitely see signs and we feel his presence. … I choose to believe in these signs because the alternative is to not believe,” she said.
Years before Corey died, Walgren saw an art exhibit that showcased the threads on the backside of a tapestry. Following one thread revealed the others with which it overlapped.
“It was a metaphor for how many lives we touch and how many lives we overlap with in our lives,” Walgren said.
Nine years after her son’s death, she still hears stories of how his life and his death touched people. It is that art piece, and all the way her son continues to show up, that led her to title her book “Invisible Threads.”
“First and foremost, I want people to read it as just an interesting narrative story, but I do hope that it gives people hope that healing is possible,” Walgren said.
Maureen Walgren will appear at a local author showcase for her book “Invisible Threads” at 2 p.m. on April 12 at Anderson’s Bookshop in downtown Naperville. Registration is required; go to eventcombo.com/e/April-Local-Author-Showcase-78380.
cstein@chicagotribune.com
