Doug

I knew when I started this particular blog that this boy would have a spot here.  I wasn't sure when he would appear, but no doubts he would.  It seems fitting that it is now.  Now, because he would have been 35 years old on the 19th of this month.  Now, because he's been gone 18 years.  Now, because he's been on my heart more so this month than any other.  And it seems others are missing him too.

I can remember the first time I laid eyes on him. He was just a month old.  I remember thinking how much he looked like Mom.  She could have spit him out herself.  I was thinking it was fitting at that moment because Bobby and Nancy lived 7 hours away. He would be a sweet reminder of home. Their visit was short, a week at most, and back home they had to go.

Aunt Crickett had just given him a bath.  Ahhh. . . . the smell of babies!

One never really frets over "stuff" when they hold a little baby.  It seems they have a way of erasing all worries and doubts.  They are just about as perfect a thing as can be.  The heart melts, the body relaxes, the mind wanders the Land of Lullabies, and smiles are easy.  It is a good thing because Life has a way of throwing all kinds of monkey wrenches in your plans, your dreams. As it turned out, Doug would be the last new grandchild my Mom would meet and he would never get to know her.  So I found it comforting  that the resemblance was so strong.  Mom died the morning after Bobby, Nancy and the kids got back home. 

Life is raw sometimes.  Bobby had a hard time with Mom's death.  It weighed heavy on him.  But he moved on with his life (so we thought) and all seemed well for a while.  But that old vice of Alcohol choked him down.  Nancy left, came back home with the kids and Bobby's lot in life was even heavier.  Divorce was imminent.  He stayed there, she stayed here.  They both remarried.  But we all know, divorce is as unkind a thing as there comes.  Its cruelty is unbiased, unconcerned and cold, no matter the age of the victim(s).  And as in any divorce, someone inevitably suffers ~ usually that burden falls on the kids, resilient or not, they hurt. 

Life moved on.  The kids grew.  Pain and emotion were often times as raw as life itself.  We felt not all was well on the home front there, but proof eluded us.  So we had to be content to let it ride.  I think that is what weighs heaviest on our hearts.  The feeling of helplessness. Of letting it ride.

I remember that day ~ 18 years ago.  I remember it was warm, the sun was shining and it was like any other summer day in my home.  I remember the fire call around 4:00PM. I knew it went towards the school, but didn't give it much more thought.  I remember the phone call later that evening from Bobby:  "He's gone."  Two words that are branded forever in my brain.  Who's gone, what was he talking about, was it him or the alcohol that so often prompted "emergency" calls to me, talking?  Never, never in a million years did I expect the answer to the "who" of it all.  Never. 

That precious baby, that weary child, the one who didn't understand life any more than the rest of us had ended his life.  And he was all alone.  In his room.  Being punished.  So many unanswered questions, so many whys.   Why would you send a teen to their room because they were sassing you and allow them to listen to  music that was so loud you could hear it coming from their closed door and never check on them?  Why?  Why would that not annoy a parent?   Why? I think it was because that person may have known the state of mind Doug was in.  I think that person had a big role in the outcome of that whole scenario.  I think that person was responsible.

It wasn't just my opinion.  It was the opinion of many.  And not just family members.  The folks that Doug worked for felt very strongly about that whole situation.  They probably knew better than any the heart of Doug.  It was such an angry time that the police had to be at the funeral and the grave side.   I had to stand behind that person at the graveside.  I couldn't even tell you what the Pastor was saying because all I could think of was how easy it would be to reciprocate the act. Easy.  Clear shot. Done.  Makes me sick to think I could have those kinds of feelings toward anyone. But the pain of watching my brother try to wrap his head around it all was heartbreaking.  We were helpless and he felt hopeless.  Sometimes. . . . there are no words to express the depth that kind of pain goes.

At any rate, Doug's death still impacts many of us today, friends and family alike.  I could (and have) rant for hours about this injustice, the unknown, the unanswered, and the "what ifs".  I've only skirted around the emotional turmoil this whole thing has had on our families and  I haven't even noted the impact it had on his siblings.  We don't talk much about it anymore.  But the most unsettling pain is the question of where he is spending eternity.  It's like a dark cloud just on the horizon.  It moves from time to time, but it never goes away.  A constant reminder of how quick and fragile our lives are.  Of how we have no control over it.  Of how we need to do our best to make sure our loved ones have secured their faith in the only One who can control it. And that we love so unconditionally that we may never know this type of pain again.

Thank you, Chuck Lam, for the picture.  And thank you
for remaining his friend for all these years.

 

 

 

 

 

My heart is heavy when I think of you

Of the things you missed in life

I pray you knew the Lord that day

Before you ended your life.

 

I love you Doug.