This One is for You

Did you feel the love being poured over you?  Did you know that our knees ached from kneeling in prayer for you?  Did you feel Jesus in your heart? I hope you did. I pray you felt it.

In your mom’s voice I could hear the love, fear, and desperate hope for better days.  I heard the haunting whisper of doubt that you might not win the battle. I sensed her struggle between protecting you, trying to control you, and letting you go to find your way. Praying you would make the right choices. Aching for you to find freedom. I can hear the voice in her head because the same voice has spoken to me many times. Where did we go wrong? Did we do all we could? How in the world did this happen? The questions and doubt are endless, but there is no one to blame.  There is no way to ease the seething burn of guilt and anguish that simmers under our skin because we couldn’t save you from it.  No one plans on being an addict—it just happens, and sometimes the grip is so tight it pulls you under.

You remind me of my own son whose journey was much like yours.  I don’t know why he lived, and you didn’t. It wrecks me to think about it. When I got the news that you overdosed again, but this time you didn’t make it, I wept for you. Deep sobs came from my heart for another young life that ended way too soon. I can feel the pounding ache in the pit of my stomach at the unbearable pain your family must endure at the loss of you.

I called my son as soon as I could because I needed to hear his voice and tell him how much I love him. I told him how grateful I am that he is still alive.  I wish you had survived, too.  My God, I wish you would have lived.

I had hope for you. I really believed you would make it. A beautiful, talented, charismatic young man with a bright future ahead—if only you could have stayed clean. If only you could have seen how you were destroying yourself. Did you see this coming? Did you realize it might end this way? I don’t think you did.  I know you dreamed of your future.

Your mom showed me a picture from a family vacation where everyone looked joyful and happy, and there you were—with your wavy hair, wide smile, and bright brown eyes. So handsome and alive.  I saw a different picture, too—a photo where your skin was gray, your eyes hollow, with the dark, empty, look of addiction shadowing your face. I recognized that look because I’ve seen it on my own son’s face.  I know your life shrunk until it was so small the only thing left was an empty feeling and a handful of drugs. But you were more than that. Much more.  You were the dream of your mom and dad. A beloved son, brother, friend, and a precious child of God.  You were cherished.  You were everything.

And I wonder…

Is there a glimpse of relief behind the agony and grief your parents are feeling knowing you are no longer in pain? I hope so.

Is there just a tiny shred of comfort knowing that your battle here on earth is over and you are finally at peace? I pray there is.

Was it the drugs that took your life? Or God’s mercy knowing you would only continue to suffer. I believe in God’s mercy and grace. I believe He called you home.

Rest in heavenly peace, precious young man.I will think of you with each set of the evening sun where grace shines in brilliant colors as you live forever in our hearts, and eternally in heaven wrapped in the loving arms of your Savior.