Let's go back to the Friday before his death. It was graduation Friday for me, so I was very preoccupied with finishing all the little touches that go into making a graduation a success. We went out to dinner before we left for Waitsburg and I tried to talk Andrew into coming with us. But he didn't want to, so he told us he would just walk home. As he walked away I watched him. I said to myself, "He looks so sad." I play that picture over in my head--sadness personified.
I've read all types of books during the past six months on suicide and death. They have given me an insight into death, but these books haven't taken away the pain that I feel so acutely today. I miss him so much. I've spent the day in the house, the house where he spent his last minutes. I've tried to do a few things today, but I can't. I wonder if this was the type of sadness he was feeling. People who have suffered with depression tell me about the deepness of the pit of dispair. My pit is pretty deep today. The difference between Andrew's pit and my pit is that I see away out of it. He didn't.
Today, Andrew is not feeling that darkness. His life is in the presence of ultimate light--God and his precious Son. Therefore, I am remembering the light that was in my life for sixteen years. I see the smile on his face. I see joy in his heart. I see the love he had for his friends and family.
Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart,
All you who hope in the Lord.
I do have hope in the Lord; however, I really wish he would have said, "Good-bye."