In Tribute: The Boy With The Sideways Smile

Once upon a time, a boy named Bill broke my heart.  It took a very long time to come to terms.

On this past Monday morning, another cousin, who I shall not identify by name, walked into a barn on his farm, wrapped the muzzle of a gun with blankets, and took his own life.  The memorial service is later this week.  I plan to break off work/call for a few hours and go - representing my Mother, who is ill and cannot make the trip.

I cannot blame my cousin for what he did.  While I've previously made light of a rare genetic disorder-of-heme-metabolism that runs in our family (and that my Mother and I may actually suffer very mild manifestations of) . . . my cousin suffered . . . and I do mean SUFFERED . . . from the full-blown disease. 

He was tormented and slowly debilitated by the symptoms of the porphyria - including, towards the end, constant physical pain that I cannot imagine, and bouts of depression that made most of my darker moments look like a day at the beach.

The "madness of King George" was very real to him . . . and the postulated origin behind the legend-of-the-vampire a cruel joke.

He was actually my Mother's first cousin (the son of her Mother's baby sister), but only slightly older than I.  I had not seen him in several years, given that my work/travel schedule has been brutal and he had become a bit of a recluse as he cared for his ailing Father and ran their massive farm down East.  Perhaps it's just as well.  For the picture I want to take with me, as he is consigned to memory, is of  our pre-teen years . . . before he was diagnosed . . . when he was a sweet, skinny, soft-spoken young man with a sly/sideways smile, who used to laugh at his little sister and I as we played . . . because we were loud and silly girls.

That's not changed very much;)

He never married - telling relatives he did not want to "burden" a good woman with his problems - and spent his life on the farm . . . being a good son and brother and uncle and friend.   

His health had taken a downward turn in recent months, and he just got tired of hurting and fighting.

I totally get that too.

As I said, the first time the Reaper reaped from our family in this fashion it took a long time to come to terms.  One of those terms is that the Lord I believe in brings home every lost/sick lamb.  My cousin fought a very long, very hard, very good fight.  He is free now.  He does not hurt anymore.  I actually almost envy that. 

And I hope to see that sideways smile again someday - on the farside banks.

We can do something very silly then . . . like drawing pictures in the sand;)




3/18 Update:  There's a lot going on today/tonight, but I wanted to update this post.   My cousin's memorial service was today and, with the assistance of colleagues, I was able to break off work for a few hours and attend.

And I'm so glad I did.  A Baptist preacher gave the most wonderful/comforting eulogy - that specifically addressed the elephant in the room - and was perhaps the best theological take I've ever heard on suicide.

It was the sermon Bill's Mother should have heard 20 years ago.