My hero son spent his 20th birthday on a mortuary slab
Kristy Freckleton, 43, Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire
Hearing a knock at the door, I opened it to see my son Oliver, 19, with a big soppy grin on his face.
‘You’re going to be a grandma,’ he announced. ‘Oh my God!’ I shrieked. It was autumn 2020, and as we were mid-pandemic I couldn’t even hug him.
But his dad Rob, then 48, and I were chuffed to bits. Oliver hadn’t had it easy. He’d always struggled with sensory overload.
Refused to sit with other kids in preschool, clamped his hands on his ears at loud noises.
Aged 12, after years of assessments, he’d been diagnosed with high functioning autism, ADHD and learning difficulties.
We got him into a specialist school by 14 and there Oliver flourished. Full of life, he loved fishing with his grandad Poppa Alan and playing for the local football team with his younger brother Charlie, then 11.
After finishing school, he started a job in a local shop.
‘But I’d love to work with animals one day,’ he told me.
Then, in early 2020, he met his girlfriend Gemma and they were soon head over heels.
When lockdown hit, Oliver moved into her flat. Now baby news!
In June 2021, their daughter Ava was born with big brown eyes, long lashes and the cutest giggle.
Oliver was blown away by her, vowing to never let her out of his sight.
After that, when Oliver wasn’t popping by with Ava, he’d text or call daily, sending us pictures and proud updates.
He was turning 20 on Sunday 12 December, so that week, I wrapped up his presents – some clothes, new trainers and aftershave.
Can I come and open them early? he texted that Friday.
I laughed.
His autism meant he’d get overexcited. Sadly, Rob had tested positive for COVID-19.
Sorry son, I replied. Instead, we arranged for Oliver to pop over on his birthday to open them in the garden.
Oliver told me that later that Friday he was off to a house party, a rare night out.
Just after midnight, Gemma called, waking me up.
‘Oliver’s been shot,’ she screamed.
That couldn’t be right. We lived in a quiet area, people didn’t carry guns.
But Gemma was hysterical, said Oliver’s mates had rung her.
Minutes later, I was with Charlie, then 17, driving to the party, in my pyjamas.
Full of COVID-19, Rob stayed behind.
I spotted Oliver on a driveway, in a pool of blood
We pulled into the cul-desac, my heart thumping.
There were armed police, squad cars and ambulances.
I spotted Oliver on a driveway, in a pool of blood.
Paramedics were working on him.
‘I’m his mum,’ I cried. Police wouldn’t let me near, but an officer told us Oliver hadn’t
