FAITH

Paul had never been particularly religious. However as his illness developed, he became very interested in various stories in the Bible. He often asked about the prodigal son and how he could be so bad and then be as accepted as the son who had never gone astray. He would twist Bible verses around to literally interpret such phrases as "lay down you life for the Lord". One time he indicated that he would lay down his life so that little kids could learn from hm what not to do. Needless to say, these are all symptoms and typical of persons with schizophrenia.

At Paul's wake when hundreds of his friends poured into Roanoke from Charleston to pay their respects with no idea why Paul had taken his life, it seemed to come to me like an inspiration from God that I must say something to make these friends of his understand. I quickly gathered his sisters and mother to the side and the words came pouring out onto a peice of paper. They felt it would be the right thing to do. So somehow God gave me the strength to stand up and tell them of Pauls illness and of his pain. I told them how hard he had fought the demons. But it seemed that God had cleared his path to free himself of the pain. There had been an odd series of coincidences that led to him have an opportunity to do the act.

Afterwards, when his mother was overcome with grief, and could not sleep or get any peace, she decided that medical help was needed. She picked a physician from a list of Preferred Providers covered by our insurance that was the nearest to our house. When she got there, he was a most compassionate and helpful person and told her he had been waiting for her call. He was a good friend of one of the ministers who conducted the funeral and the minister had told him to be expecting a call from Paul's mother. But the minister had not told us and the physician was picked from a book. Did God somehow lead her to that person?

About six weeks before Paul's death, I had been attending a kickoff party for the Combined Federal Campaign, the federal sector's version of the United Way. Another friend and I stood not ten feet away from a speaker who had been sent there to tell about her agency. One thing they did was counsel families after the loss of a loved one due to suicides. She told about losing her son, and how she finally realized that it was his choice that he made and not a choice that she could make or would have made, but it was his choice.

When I first learned of my son's suicide in an emergency room waiting area, those words came back to me and I just said them over and over, "It was his choice, not ours." Somehow, they gave me strength to get through those terrible first few hours, days, and weeks. I later told that speaker about being there on that day and how it had given me strength. She said she remembered the event well and felt so strange talking about that topic in such a setting as that. But my just happening to be there not only got me through those first few days, it got me to attend "Survivors of Suicide" meetings immediately, which helped us tremendously.

Another very "weird" thing, I think, is that every place that Paul ever worked is now closed. In Charleston, he worked for a grocery store and a restaurant. The grocery store has changed hands and the restaurant is completely closed. Here in Roanoke, he worked at three different restaurants and all three are out of business. Is that weird or what?

Another strange incident occurred in the Summer of 1997. My wife and I had been in Atlanta, GA. to attend a wedding and decided to visit Paul's commemorative brick at the Centennial Olympic Park. As we approached the area, we could see that a large party was underway with a tent, a band and food was being served. We parked and walked over to the site of the brick and the caterers were preparing salads over the spot with a lot of tables, boxes and crates. One elderly gentleman asked if he could help us and we told him we had come to see our son's brick and it was under there somewhere. He started moving crates and boxes and we told him not to bother and that we had seen it before. We started to walk away and had gone about 15 feet when we heard a plate drop. As they started sweeping to clean up the broken glass, I walked back and there under the spot where the plate had fallen was Paul's brick. We pointed it out to those nearby and started to leave. We had gone about 50 yards when the elderly gentleman came running up to as and said, "I just want you to know that God had a hand in your finding that brick. He did not want to see you leave without having seen the brick."

I could not argue at all with the logic that this was more than coincidence.

Page created July 25, 1997.
Last updated Aug. 31, 2007 at 8:51 A.M..
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