How will you feel if your son dies tomorrow?

 It's not like he's going to grown up tomorrow; he's eleven. There will be more Saturdays.  It's not like I'm gonna die tomorrow. Seriously, what are the odds you will die tomorrow? About 1 in 2,000 or about .05 percent if you're a 20 year old woman, and I am not. There's always time to spend with your son.  It doesn't have to be today.

Today is a good day to change. I lived too much of my days as a dad of young boys putting off to tomorrow time better meant for them. So you don't think I'm being hard on myself, do know that I know I was a good dad. Could have been better, but I wasn't. There are no do-overs so I'm sharing this observation just in case it might be read by one dad who gives the day to his son right now, instead of thinking there is a tomorrow.

We know we are not promised tomorrow. We know we are mortal human beings dependent on a heart beating its next beat. I thought I would live a long life. Of course the boys will grow up, go to school, get married, have children.  I expected I will be there for them until, well at least 60. There is time.

Maybe if I had this observation back then I might have done a few things differently. Here it is: Instead of thinking, "How would my sons feel if I were to die tomorrow? Have I done enough for them? Have I been the dad they needed me to be?" I wonder what choices would have been made  had  I pondered a thought we parents never want to think. "How would I feel if my son were to die tomorrow?"

If I die, I'm gone. My sons would have suffered their pain. They would have each other and their mother. I would feel nothing. They would go to school, get married, have children and remember more or less life with dad.  They would feel their feelings and experience happiness, sadness, joy, fear, gratitude. They would feel as they are supposed to feel. And they'd have each other. They would be OK.  I would have no feelings.

This is a note from my son Aaron in 2001 when he was 11 or 12. I had forever to spend with him experiencing life. Forever was three years and nine months. I live with feeling feelings. His brother does not have his brother. And that hurts. I have things to tell my son and no way to reach him. These feelings hurt. For 13 years they've hurt.

 Instead of making choices like your life will never end, ask yourself, "How will I feel about my choices if my son were to die tomorrow?"  When you choose your son, and I believe you will, be present. Give him all of  your attention. Whatever it is you chose not to do, let it go. I promise you if you're here and your son is gone forever, you will have a little peace where there would be pain, and your son will have what he needs today---you.

P.S. I will live with choices I made placing myself first and always be grateful for the times I did not put off what needed to be said or done today. On my last day with my son, I told him everything I admired about him, what I forgave him for, where I was wrong about him, how inspired I was by him, and most of all, I made the amends I needed to make to my son.

Leave A Place Better Than You Found It

March 2005 Aaron asked me, "I'm an expensive kid, aren't I?"  He was referring to the price of his 14 months admission to Mt Bachelor Academy and 40 days in the Idaho wilderness. "Aaron, we would spend every penny to keep you alive. If you had died we would give everything to bring you back. We wanted you to live."  I had exactly that decision to make in 2003. Do not give up. Put everything on the line to keep him safe. Try anything. Go to extremes. Money can be replaced.  "Dad, you did the right thing. I couldn't ever send my son away but I'm glad you did. I'm going to pay you back."  Just live Aaron. I told him he owes us nothing. Just live and be you. Make a difference in lives and be happy and alive. That's all.

Somehow, that bright moment in the story would flicker out within 2 months. Someone said, "All good things must end." The evidence proves it's a little more harsh than that. "Every life ends with grief." Regardless of a family's happiness, in the end someone is left with unbelievable grief.

Aaron paid back to the world every penny and then some ever paid to save his life. Death won the battle, taking everything it could steal. An yet Life prevailed. The soul never dies. Life is ideas. Once the energy of an idea is released it's free from death. Like butterfly wings on air, the ripples of an idea reverberate to the end of time.

On April 2, 2005 Aaron and I were in a field with friends on a pheasant hunt.  Aaron picked up a wrapper of some sort, put it in his vest pocket and said to me, "Leave a place  better than you found it."

Aaron's House. Grace House. Live Free for Health, Wellness, and Recovery UW Student Org, Pres House, College credits, degrees, careers, family peace, life, recovery, friendships, weddings instead of funerals, babies, families, rest, peace, hope, ideas.  You're alive and well young man. You left the world a better place.

No one gets out alive

The drugs swept them up while the parents denied the obvious. Fifteen years ago, about this time of year, the skirmishes began.  Small verbal volleys of passive aggressive comments.  Soon the confrontations would become real battles with me armed with suspicion and very little evidence. By December 2003 it would be all out war. Hurt feelings, hurt psyche, hurt bodies, hurt relationships.  The drug culture had come to our town, and quickly spread into our home. I fought the people, the culture, the drug, parents, police, coaches, users, my son, my friends, my family. Me against the world. I was not going to let my son be taken.

The drug culture is mostly an invisible enemy. It's everywhere, yet it's nowhere.  You can see it. Your friends can't. It's a rare parent who accepts what they see; the rationalizations are as common as the lies. Justifications will make your head spin and you might think you're crazy because no one admits what you know is true.

This happened then, it's happening now. Parents who know their kid lies when his lips move, will accept a quick denial. Of course they will.  When we hear the answer we want to hear who digs further to find what we don't want to admit.  "I talked to my son. He said they weren't talking about drugs, they were joking. My son doesn't have Oxy. He definitely doesn't do drugs."  "If you have  a problem with your son doing drugs, don't bring me into it. My son doesn't do drugs." "Don't you think you're overreacting? He's not doing anything you didn't do." "It's just weed. We're not going to do anything else. We're not stupid."  "We have a closed campus. We did a surprise locker search and found no drugs."  "They told us when the search would be. They're so stupid." "No, I haven't seen any problems. Maybe it's your kid hanging with the wrong crowd." "My son is an honor roll student, and athlete. Don't bring him into it."

The 15, 16, 17 year old boys are thirty-something men today. Not all of them. Six I believe, but I may be missing some, have died. My son is one. He didn't die from drugs, he lost his life to drugs, and then he died because of drugs. He was driving over to give a kid a ride to a job interview when he crashed his truck. The guy he was going to help was a convicted drug dealer.  I believe this guy was one of the initial culprits who brought drug into Aaron's group of friends. I hated this kid back then. I went looking for him in an emotional rage one day after the funeral.  He wasn't home. I went home. Crying cured what fighting couldn't. I slept.

There is no satisfaction in being right.  I didn't want to be right. I wanted to stop the insanity.  There is no denying the drug is in the home when your standing in a funeral home with your son in a casket. They're gone. The honor roll students, the athletes, the good kids, the jokers, the liars. Yes indeed my son was in with the wrong crowd. So was I.

1990 was a long time ago. Yet I remember well the fateful day plans changed and we moved to DeForest instead of McFarland. It's actually maddening to follow the sequence of events and choices which resulted in my son being in the midst of what would become a deadly epidemic.  Some moments the regret is so deep I can feel my heart ache.

I was at odds with that community, the users, the dealers, the parents. I don't know if the course of life and death could have been changed. Those parents who would not try to to alter the course are taking their place in the place no one would intentionally go. Another parent's son died. This time the tragedy ends with a person who was there in the beginning. And so it goes. And so this blog ends. Turn the page.