Speak Up

As I carried my dead son’s body into the hospital I finally gave up control to my Lord and Savoir. I had been fighting against drug addiction with my oldest boys for about 4 years. I had already put him in several treatment centers and rehabs. However, the he was still in the deep dark abyss known as addiction relapse. I exhausted most of my resources and was struggling with “tuff love”. I was refusing to give anything to my son and instructed him to only contact me from a rehab center. Every day I prayed for his survival however, his addiction grew deeper and darker. Then one day I receive a phone call telling me my son had been up for several days strung out on meth, looks funny and he isn’t able to wake up. I almost passed out from the rush of adrenalin. I asked the caller if my son was breathing and he replied “kinda”. I screamed out loud in anger: “God you better leave him!” I quickly went to where my son was and as I arrived I saw him slumped over a car seat. He was ashy white with blue lips and looked to have lost 35 to 40 pounds. I could only find a weak heartbeat and very faint breathing. I grabbing him up and rushed him to the hospital another 15 miles away. Getting caught in traffic I reached over to see if he was still breathing and he wasn’t nor could I find a heartbeat. I began jumping curbs and blowing stoplights. Just before I arrived at the hospital I prayed for the Lord to please spare my son. I then carried my lifeless son’s body into the ER. The Doctors and nurses rushed to help him and realizing the situation they called a chaplain. I watched as they franticly worked on my son. Nobody would look me in the eye nor answer my question, “Is he dead?” I grabbed one of the nurses by her arm and pleaded for her to tell me if he was breathing. She replied by shaking her head no. I collapsed to my knees.