People who love someone struggling with mental health or addiction rip their fingers raw holding onto even the slimmest grain of hope. I've heard (and said) more times than I can count, "As long as he/she is breathing there is hope." And I've sat with family and friends of those who have died and held them as they cried, "I'd take all the chaos again just to have him/her back." That my friends is the real hard raw truth of these diseases. But there is another side of the story....
I drove up to the graveside where the family was gathering. As I approached the mother, the first thing I noticed was a lightness in her step I hadn't seen the last time I saw her. She greeted me with a smile and a warm hug. Over the next 45 minutes I heard stories, there was laughter, and yes there were many many tears. There were statements such as, "He's at peace" and that is true, but there is still a hole in all our hearts that will never be completely filled again.
I walked over to hug his mama one more time. She held onto me, put her lips close to my ear and said, "At least I don't have to wait for the phone call anymore. It already came. It's over. I can sleep."
God help me, but as I turned away and began walking towards my car, for a split second, I was jealous.
