Tommy - Liz - Aaron. Horizon High School Grads

The date of this photo is unknown to me, but it is likely only days before Aaron's death. Sunny. Warm. Certainly May.

Tommy and Aaron were weeks away from graduation. Liz would have another semester to go. They appear to be having a smoke break on the tailgate of Aaron's truck. Camel Lights for Aaron. Maybe the same for Liz. Tommy? Whatever you're smoking is good for him.

Tommy and Aaron met near the end of January '05. They were two of the first students at a high school of 5-6 students. Liz arrived after the semester began. The three bonded beautifully. Liz is an artist. Tommy's a computer wiz. Each is a talented free spirit. Each is as wonderfully compassionate as a parent could want in a son or daughter. This truck was their ride. Aaron lived 15 miles from school. Liz, about 2. Tommy, maybe 8 miles. They could go through a tank of gas every two days.

Aaron was never one to offer any details on their daily activities. I suspected they were up to something and I usually suspected the something was not good. I was wrong. Tommy, Liz, and Aaron were best of friends and best for eachother. Horizon High School is a sobriety school. The three supported eachother through some challenging times. Relationships, friendships, sobriety, etc...they connected with eachother to stay on track. The connection was critical.

Many high school students have more than one group of friends. It's a natural outcome of being open and accepting. Some students are drug and alcohol free. Others are not. Some become addicted. Others do not. Leaving people you like because they are users or addicts is not an easy option, (anti-drug commercials suggest otherwise). The sober or non-addicted friends don't know the pain of addiction. They can't relate. To make it sober one day at a time, the person trying to remain sober has a chance when they connect with people who know their struggle. Tommy, Liz, and Aaron knew the common struggle. They wrapped their arms around themselves and held on.

Tommy told a group of students just the other day that Aaron told them on the morning he died "I'm going make it. I'm going to graduate sober." I knew Aaron had made that commitment to me, to his Mom, to Patrick and to other people. Nobody was closer to Aaron in those last days than Tommy and Liz. Eight months after the terrible day, hearing Tommy quote Aaron with the sound of hope and confidence I miss gave me some peace. With all the focus on healing, I've lost touch with the intensity of Aaron's efforts involving addiction.

Liz completed her work in December. I believe she will be the third Horizon High graduate following Tommy and Aaron. Our family will be at graduation. A world of contentment and happiness is out there for Tommy and Liz. We wish them peace.

Tom

May 10, 2005 - January 10, 2006

The first hours of May 10, 2005 were much like every day for the previous three months. Aaron was home. Our family of four was back together. There was real peace in our home. Just days earlier I walked in from work with arms full of stuff and moved basketballs and boy things out of my way with my foot. Instead of grumbling something about ungrateful kids not picking up their junk, I smiled and thought how good it was to have the boys both home and still messing around with footballs and basketballs.

Sitting at a table a lady across from me wrote a note on a two inch by two inch piece of white paper. She folded it in half, wrote "TOM" on the top fold and passed it to me. I read the note and placed it in an easy to find place. The verse would be easy to remember. Maybe I'll repeat it to myself througout the day until I have it memorized.

I left the meeting and went about my day as always. Thinking of a good job for my son Aaron, now 18, I called his cell phone 772-1529. (15 was his high school football jersey and 29 was his youth football number). No answer at about 9 or 10 AM, so I left a message. At 11:30 until 12:30 I was at an appointment. Cathy was at the office. Patrick in school. Sometime around 1:00 pm I left Aaron another message on a different job idea. I didn't know that the second message would never be heard.

By 2:45 that afternoon our lives would be the same no more. Aaron had died at about 12:22 pm and we were now receiving the call. I see the number register on my phone as coming from a 266 extension I think. The voice on the other end: "Mr. Meyer, I'm calling from the Dane County Sherrif's Department, North East Precinct." That's the way I remember the conversation beginning.

We picked up Patrick at school before he could hear the rumors from friends on a bus, and came home. The doors were open. The TV was on with a video game paused to be continued. Aaron had stepped out intending to return shortly. People were rushing around the house. A police officer and sheriff deputy were going through Aaron's room. I lost track of Cathy. I fell to my knees in the front room trying to recall the words of the verse given to me in the morning. I don't know for sure how to describe my feeling at the time; desperation, panic, disbelief, distress, anger, sick... all come to mind. Sad is too small of a word to compound all of the emotions. What were the words? I wanted to pray. I told God this is not a cross I want to carry but if it is true and God's will I'll do my best. But those weren't the words I wanted. Where did I put the note?

Today I found the note in the first place I looked. Right where it belongs in my Daily Reflections book, at May 10. The verse reads:

Let me hear what you need me to hear.

Let me speak what you need me to speak.

Let my Mind and Heart be Open.

Pausing to reflect,

Tom