A Daily Reprieve

Grief. Ten years. April 28, 2005 I recall we were meeting or preparing to meet with the people at Horizon High School to discuss the conditions for Aaron's graduation. He had relapsed on April 22 or 23 and came clean about the slip with his counselor. Patient confidentiality was overlooked; the private counseling staff was connected to the school. I stood next to Aaron's classmates as he walked up the hill to meet the school staff to hear their decision. One of the students standing next to me calmly said, "He's got a lot courage. If it was me, I don't think could face this."  Aaron did have courage. He also had integrity. Aaron came to face the staff and accept their decision. I was prepared to battle the school and the counselors. Conflict! Patient Rights!

The meeting started with Aaron speaking. He said he would accept the decision and comply with whatever they felt was best. I seethed inside. The decision was handed out--Aaron could finish school at Horizon (1 more month) but he was only to attend first hour, and then do his work from home, go to counseling, step meetings, and locate employment.  I rejected the idea that he should not be in the school from 8:30 to 3:00. Accept the decision, I was told. They know best. Let go of control.

I handed Aaron a letter I wrote on the weekend. It ended with "As you turn 18 and finish high school, all I want for you...." The sentence ended at "you". I was typing on a flight to Austin. They announced to put away electronic devices. The  letter was printed before the meeting, put in my pocket, and looked over by me at the conference table. I saw I had not finished the letter. I wrote in pen "...is to just live". I handed the letter to Aaron. He read it, folded it into a small rectangle and put it in his pocket.

At about 4:30 on May 10th, I saw that note again. I had fallen face down on a pile of clothes in Aaron's room, and clutched at his clothes. I felt something in a pocket of a dirty pair of pants. The letter was a bit tattered. The last words, written in ink were all I had to see,"Just live."  Just live Aaron. Just live. My first resentment occurred happened that instant. Guilt of failing to fight the school and the counselors to keep Aaron in the school building flooded me. Anger at the decision makers swept through me. Angry. Bitter. Mean. Justifiable anger.

Within two hours I was face down again on the floor of the living room. I could see the shoes of the Priest. Maybe I was trying to push through the floor. I stopped with my head in the corner. I was trying to recall the prayer I was given for no known reason that morning: 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. The words escaped me. I'd only heard it once and that was less than 12 hours earlier. Instead I saw in my mind Jesus in the Garden of Gathsemane. I cried through the words that came to mind, "God, I don't want this to be true. I don't want bear this cross. If this has to be, then please help me do this with Grace and Dignity".

Truth can't be undone. Time will not recede. God can't grant wishes of resurrection to those who pray better or ask more deeply. God does answer prayers for grace, dignity, mercy, compassion, forgiveness. I've been blessed with the ability to accept God's Grace and to approach life with Dignity. I don't always accept the blessing. Angry, bitter, and mean is a choice. Grace and Dignity are a daily reprieve. Today I have a choice. There was a time in my life when I had no willingness to choose a healthy way. Today I have a choice. I'm grateful for the answered prayer; for the daily reprieve.

These are some of the last photos I know of. Aaron with his cousin and guitar on Easter Sunday, and Aaron with lifelong pals Zach and Erik at a wedding in April.