Ten years ago today, a boy died. We loved him deeply. Like a son. His grave is a short walk from the house where we now live. If it wasn't raining a cold rain today, I would walk up there and sit for a while. I would remember. I would cry.
First I would remember the boy as he was when I met him. I spotted him on the very first day we went to a new church. I knew that in some way we would be connected. Our lives would intertwine. In fact, he became like a son to us. This boy with love on his face and worship in his heart. Exuberant, passionate guitar-playing evangelist boy. In time he brought his friends to us, wanted us to help him take care of the lost souls he collected at school. This I do remember. He was that boy.
Until he got lost. The demons came calling. Their wicked long fingers grasping at him. He opened the door and let them in. They came to steal his life, and that they did. It took years, agonizing years. He became a different boy. Manipulative. Untrustworthy. Rebellious. Stubborn. Addicted. Afraid.
After he died, I heard he had become afraid to get high alone, knew he was taking his life in his hands. Knew he lived on the edge of a knife. Knew it. We all knew it. For years we tried. Begged. Pleaded. Cried. Prayed. Oh, how we prayed. Loved. Let go. Held on. Did it all over again.
It was never enough. That boy died of an overdose in his bedroom in his parents' house. His father found him there on the morning of April 15. Sometime after I heard the news I saw a vision in my mind. The light of God shone on their house that night. Jesus sat in the boy's bedroom. Patiently waiting to take his son home in his arms. I saw Jesus sitting there. I know He came for him. I know it. I hope I know it.
I felt such guilt. Like I had failed this boy. Then God gave me a dream. The boy forgave me. There was more to it. After the dream, I wrote this poem:
I hold you now in arms made strong
your body and limbs, unwieldy
your head thrown back
reveals dark bruises
Gingerly I kiss each one
my lips searching for the root
of all that pain
In my hands I hold out
your long arms
and with my fingertips I gently probe
those small blue holes
that some would say
tell the whole story
but we know are just a fraction of the truth
Long ago I let your hand slip through my fingers
now, only in my dreams
do I hold you like my babies
Because His arm was not too short to save
He holds you now
in arms stronger than mine will ever be
Let it be so.
6 comments:
That poem is so beautiful.
I am so sorry he left...I cannot imagine how painful that was and still is.
But thank God that what happens here is not the end of the story.
I have been thinking about him recently... it was the first time I saw Dan really cry; I had to be the one to tell him the awful news. I had no words then, and I still just feel blank when confronted by his death.
Oh this post made me cry.How haunting and beautiful. I remember hearing about his death and crying. I don't pretend that I knew him well. I wanted to know him. He was kind when we would see each other on the street. We were introduced several times but he never could remember my name.I was close to some of his close friends. They were so angry that our church wasn't more proactive with trying to save him. What could be done? I have no doubt that Jesus was there to carry him home. I feel like when Ian was in Jesus's arms he probably sobbed with relief to be out of pain. To not have to struggle and fight the demons anymore. He fought the good fight. I believe that when you see him again you will also be told that you actually did save his life. You were there to make his time here a little more beautiful.
Thank You for this post.
I miss him often.
He called me one day a few months before…to tell me how much he loved me. I begged him to stop, but he said that he couldn't—and he told me not to worry. I think that was the last time we spoke to one another.
I don't think I knew this boy, but this was a beautiful way to honor his memory. I'm sorry I didn't know him - I'm sorry I know some like him - too much pain.
I am so glad he is still remembered...
Jess, you're right. Thank God it's not the end of the story.
Emily, how sad that you had to break the news to Dan. I know he loved Ian.
Merry, thank you for the kind words. It is still hard to feel that in some way I did not fail him or betray him, though I know I didn't. As for how anyone blamed the church...well, that is, of course, ridiculous. Just people acting out of their grief.
Gideon, so glad you stopped by; you took me by surprise. How fortunate are you that he called you to tell you how much he loved you, to tell you not to worry? What a gift. I will try not to be jealous...
Michele, yes...way too much pain.
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