Suicide is not painless
I am
the father of 3 wonderful sons and one is no more. He was the youngest son. He was
full of happiness; at least that is what he showed the world. Unfortunately there
was an internal torment and desperation that nobody saw which tore at his soul.
When he could no longer bear it he chose to take his own life. He is missed by
everyone who had the privilege of knowing him.
As parents,
when we hear stories of children and young adults taking their own lives there
is a quick sharp pain that occurs in our heart. It passes as we thank God it
was not our child. Sometimes we dismiss it by saying the poor kid must have had
an awful childhood or horrible parents. When it is your child you begin to
re-think your previous stereo-types of a troubled child as well as horrible parents.
My youngest
son was born 7/24/1986 at St. Joseph Hospital in Denver Colorado. He was 8
weeks premature and breach. When his mother’s water broke at about midnight I
called my brother for help. Then I grabbed the two older boys and loaded the
three of them in the car and raced for the hospital. My brother arrived shortly
after we did and took the older boys home. They were sleepy, confused and glad
to see their Uncle.
The nurses
and doctors were flocking around his mom. I was determined to stay with her. When
they decided an emergency C-section was necessary one nurse hurriedly got me gowned
up for the operating room, she escorted me into the OR and showed me where to
stand. His mom was on the table and was covered with sterile drapes. I stood by
her head. I had watched this before. Our second son was delivered by C-Section
and I was there to watch. This time there was a seriousness I had not felt
before. When they got ready to give her the general anesthesia a doctor called
out to mark the time. She went out fast and the doctor did some very fast
feeling of her tummy for the baby’s location. The cutting began in a quick
determined fashion. His mom was voluptuous so several layers of fat had to be
cut through before they could use the spreaders. Then they removed the other parts,
the colon and small intestines among other things. When they got to Wesley he
was all the way down with his right foot sticking out. When the doctor tried to
grab him he was stuck. He was covered in slime and with their gloves they couldn’t
get a grip on him. He was so little down in that cavity. His color was gray. The
clock was running. The tension was high. The voices of the masked ones had an
urgency that spoke louder than their words. In law there is a phrase when you want
someone to perform quickly, time is of the essence. At this moment that phrase
had new meaning to me.
After what
seemed like an eternity one doctor reached in and put her thumb in his mouth
and grabbed his head with her fingers. She pulled him loose and out of the
cavity. The activity moved from the table to a back table where several people
began working on that gray little body. Soon there was a cry and the tension
lessened. After they worked on him a little more they let me see him and count fingers
and toes before they rushed him off to the N-ICU. They wanted me to stay with
his mom as they reassembled all of her parts in the right places and sewed her
back together layer by layer.
When I
got to the N-ICU they said he was little and time would tell if he would make
it. His lungs were not fully developed. They had him on a warming table. He was
on his back with his knees bent up. I stretched out my fingers and held them
over him. He was as big as my full hand span from thumb to little finger. Later
I would take that picture to show him, if he made it.
During
the next 3 weeks it was touch and go a few times. I spent almost every day at
his side. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. After 8 weeks he came home
on oxygen and all kinds of monitors. His mom was a nurse so she was able to
take good care of him. It was scary for me, I was always afraid he would stop
breathing or his heart would stop. After a few more months as he continued to
grow, the danger, as well as the oxygen and monitors were gone.
He tore
my heart coming into this world, but I had no idea how big a hole he would
create in my heart leaving this world.
I got
the news of his death on a Monday afternoon when I called my wife to check in.
Nobody wanted to be the one to tell me the bad news. My oldest son had called my wife with the news and asked her to tell me. My immediate response
was “why?”. There was no note or letter, a goodbye was not said.
One of
the worst parts of life are those things which are unknown. Some of us spend
our lives asking why things are the way they are. Finding an answer, even part
of an answer, can bring joy to an inquisitive mind. In a case like this the
source is gone so no answer will ever be found. That is easy to say and
extremely difficult to accept. For some people it is impossible.
It is
very important not to drive yourself crazy with thoughts of why. You will find
a million possibilities, almost all of them things you did or didn’t do. One of
them could be the reason. Others could be a contributing factor, however, the
point is, you will never know for sure. Focusing on these things will never
bring a child back. No matter how much time you spend on this matter it won’t
change the outcome. Unfortunately it may change you, and not in a positive way.
After the
shock sunk in and a why was not to be found, I turned my focus to God. I had
been a real Christian for about 9 years. I am trying, with the help of the Holy
Spirit, to make God the center of my life. This requires consulting God’s word
to resolve my concerns or problems that come into my life. I am sure a more
mature Christian would consult God first in everything, but I am not there yet.
It seems like I take on the big issues and go to God with the small ones. Most
of my life I have tried to fix things. I worked as an auto mechanic while an
undergrad. My degree is in Special Education. I tried to fix the learning problems
of young minds. I taught for the Special School district of St. Louis County,
MO while getting my Masters in Special Education. After that I taught at Brehm Preparatory
School in Carbondale IL while I started my Ph.D. in Vocational Education for
the handicapped. That didn’t work out so I got my Juris Doctor at University of
Denver. Later, while in prison, I finished my Ph.D. in Comparative Religion.
Finally I earned my Doctor of Theology. All of these doctorates were intended
to help fix my problems.
Before
I gave my life to Christ I would use many worldly tools to try and fix
my problems. My moral compass gradually turned 180©. At first the movement was so
slight it was not noticeable, but over time it gradually became apparent to
others there was a huge problem. I couldn’t see the problem until God opened my
eyes. With my eyes opened I saw a horrible mess. I was the horrible person who
created that mess and have suffered the punishment resulting from trying to fix
problems using my own knowledge and power.
When I
decided to consult the bible for help regarding my son’s death I wasn’t sure
where to begin, so I backed up and began with prayer. It came to me that
looking at the stories of biblical fathers who lost their children would be a
good place to begin. The bible has several stories of fathers who have lost their
children. Each story portrays a fathers thoughts of the loss. Contemplating those
stories has helped me a great deal. I can focus on a Godly way to come to terms
with his death.
I hope and pray my story will help other parents who are
suffering the death of a child. The cause of the death is not important. There is
not a good way or a better way to lose a child. The focus is not on the loss
but the way God wants you to deal with the loss. That is important.
Todd
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