My
Less Traveled Road Stinks
By Aldon Cheatham
January 17, 2000
We were a typical Apostolic family. We
had core values taught by good parents. I
was one of two boys. With Sam being
five years my senior, he picked on me hard, but he was my champion when the
bullies came along. Also, I knew I
wasn’t adopted like he told me. (I
looked too much like my mother.) As
typical as our family was, we were about to become a statistic.
Sam’s rebellion started shortly after puberty.
At fifteen he had already started drinking, smoking, and just about
anything else he could try. By
seventeen, he had a girlfriend who was ten years older than him and when he
turned eighteen, he moved in with her.
After living with her for a few months, he grew tired of the his
situation. In the process of straightening out his life, Sam joined
the National Guard. Ten months
after his eighteenth birthday, the prodigal son came home.
Our father welcomed him into our house.
Mom cooked his favorite meal. He
told our parents that this was like his ‘Last Supper,’ referencing Jesus
just before the crucifixion. I
guess his thinking was the National Guard would be similar.
As Mom prepared dinner, he and our father had the heart-to-heart talk
that was so needed. Unlike the
tough guy he wanted to be, he wept on Dad’s shoulder.
He was truly sorry for all of the grief he caused the family.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t here to stay; boot camp was calling.
I never saw him alive again. He
missed one of the flights leaving for boot camp and while waiting a week for the
next flight, he had a fatal car accident. It’s
now been over 13 years since his death. What
did my parents do to deserve this? Nothing.
My brother lived his life not for God, but for himself. It’s always sad when parents outlive their children, but
life doesn’t stop. All I have
left of my brother are memories. We
have a responsibility to share the memories with others.
We must talk about the people we have lost.
It is only by communication that we can ever overcome these horrible
situations.
The point of this article is not to gain sympathy, but to share an understanding
of life and death. A rather morbid subject left untouched by most, but experienced by
others. My brother wasn't an grandfather dying of old
age. He wasn't an infant that never made it out of the hospital.
However, he was a kid, robbed of his youth. The following advice is applicable
for all who desire to comfort the grieving:
-
Don't
say, "I know how you must feel." - You don't know.
-
Do
say, "I love you and will be praying for you." - You can
love and you can pray.
ninetyandnine.com
Article
© Aldon Cheatham, 2000
--------
Aldon
Cheatham works as a member of a computer support team for a large insurance
company based out of the U.K. whose U.S. headquarters is in Nashville, Tennessee.
He moved to Nashville from St. Louis, Missouri in the Spring of 1999 and to St.
Louis from Shreveport, Louisiana in the Spring of 1998. He's obviously a
sojourner in the land of opportunity. Will he ever find a resting
place? Write us and let us know. Did you like his article?
Write us and let us know. Will you ever read another bio again?
Write us and let us know. He's also the Web Master of ninetyandnine.com.
He wanted his bio to be longer than anyone else's and it is. Good for
Aldon.
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