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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Sibling(s) (05/01/08)
Graphic Epitaph

The chilled night quietly diminished to a dull gray. Fickle autumn winds had left the trees bereft of leaves, torn from their limbs as they succumbed to the dead of winter. The ground crunched as a car pulled into the secluded clearing, encircled by trees secretively guarding a patch of field grass dusted with dawn’s snow. This part of the game preserve, rarely visited, was secure from enquiring eyes.

He left the car running. The headlights cast an eerie glow on the trees, as if each one held separate drama scenes from his past. They stood guard as silent witnesses to the events that were taking place in front of them. He felt he had chosen this site wisely, as the gnawing pain infused his mind, refusing to allow his conscience a voice. The short barrel 22, purchased a few days before, leaned against the seat. A full box of ammo lay open next to it. He selected his favorite CD, “Fly Me Courageous”, resting next to him, and carefully slid it into the player, cranking up the volume. There was a tiny post-it-note stuck on the accompanying jacket, indicating his favorite song, “The Innocent.”

As the music blared, my brother rolled down the window, picked up the rifle and practiced shooting at the barren trees, trying to destroy the tormenting memories looming in their shadows. The empty jackets expended backwards into the interior of the car in scattered piles. Words from the song assailed his ears, “save me …”*. It was a graphic epitaph of his life.

His mind, dimmed and muted by the bottle of liquid courage he had brought with him, slowly retraced for the thousandth time the years that had led up to this momentous occasion. There seemed to be times of happiness, but mostly struggles and bad choices that made his life appear worthless. He had lost so much. His wife, his kids, his second wife, and his last girlfriend had no use for him. His discarded business card case had slid to the floor, spilling out his get rich quick schemes - distant memories shaded in hopeless failures.

My brother had a comedic side, playing the family jokester, which covertly hid his pain. It was an ocean deep, but no one suspected, or if they did, chose to ignore it. Our mother’s lies and manipulations had helped destroy him, but we did not take it seriously until it was too late. His alcohol dependence funneled from the emotional abuse and the inability to acquire bonded relationships, directed his life like a cheap Saturday night horror flick.

My heart’s desire was to be the loving, accepting big sister. He seemed to gravitate towards that for a couple of years after his second wife walked out, with apparently no provocation after less than a year of marriage. It devastated and stunned him into a vortex of confusion and hopelessness, which lasted the rest of his life. He grasped tightly to alcohol. It destroyed his confidence, consuming him with depression. He refused my entreaties to find life in Christ – we spent many hours discussing God and the hereafter. He was convinced that he was not good enough for God and then laughed about tricking “St Peter” and sneaking past him through the “pearly gates”.

He lost contact with his family during that final year. He lived homeless in a rental car those last remaining days, the seats piled high with the only personal possessions he owned. It was his fortress, his mysterious hideaway where his hopeless plans concluded abruptly - the day he chose to end his life in that secluded clearing.

Regret, grief, guilt – struggled to gain momentum in the days that followed his death. I wondered if my heart would ever stop weeping. I have heard it said that suicide is a selfish decision, a mountain of pity parties culminating in one passionate move to spare others from the perpetrator’s pathetic existence. What if it is unresolved mental suffering? Or anguished emotional bruising that will not allow a person to grasp life and survive? Without hope, without Christ, there is nothing to live for.

Acceptance came slowly, no longer paved with guilt and regret, but soothed with God’s peace. A song played on the radio comforted me during that season: “Praise You in This Storm”**. I read the lyrics at my brother’s memorial service and told his kids how much he loved them. Those lyrics are an epitaph of true Christ-like courage for the living.

*******************
Footnotes:

* Album Title: Fly Me Courageous
Artists: Drivin-N-Cryin
© 1980 Island Records, Inc and Drivin-N-Cryin Music
Song Title: The Innocent
Partial Lyrics from “The Innocent”:

“I want you to want me I want you to know What it is that I’ve got here … Down on the outside He knows you’re out there Something from nothing Do you care to share my prayer Save me…”


** Album: LifeSong
Artists: CastingCrowns
©2005 ClubZooMusic/SWECSMusic/EMICMG Publishing/Word Music, LLC ASCAP/Banahama Tunes, ASCAP
Song Title: Praise You in This Storm
Lyrics by Mark Hall

(partial lyrics)

“…I lift my eyes unto the hills Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth And I'll praise You in this storm … For You are who You are
No matter where I am And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand You never left my side
And though my heart is torn I will praise You in this storm

Lyrics based on:

Romans 8:28
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Psalm 42:5
Psalm 121:1-2
Job 1:20-21
Daniel 3:16-18

**************
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This article has been read 960 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Yvonne Blake 
05/09/08
So sad! I don't know what I can say. So sad!
Leticia Caroccio
05/09/08
Wow! Such pain and expressed so poignantly. You write that you wonder if your heart will ever stop weeping. Perhaps it won't. But I do know that God keeps track of all those tears and records them. When our hearts are broken, His also breaks. But with Him there is always hope. I could feel your brother's pain, I could hear the shots as they hit the trees. Because of your expressive writing I stood by as a witness to a powerfully sad moment in your life. And it breaks my heart. Wonderfully written and I won't soon forget your haunting words. I pray that you and your brother's family have found peace in the Savior.
Beckie Stewart
05/10/08
Oh my goodness. I lost a stepsister in a car accident years ago, and she did not know the Lord. The pain was excruciating. I cannot imagine the pain of losing a loved one through suicide.

This was so well written and from the heart. Thanks for sharing this part of your heart and life so well.
Elaine Randle
05/12/08
I feel so much of your pain, I lost my only brother last year. We usually think if we didn't see the evidence of salvation that our loved ones are lost for eternity, and maybe so. But no one save God knows what goes on in their final seconds or if in their unconciousness they call out to Him, as the thief on the cross did. My brother was raised in a Christian home and although my Mother went to glory before my brother's death, her prayers were still in effect. God's piercing words (II Tim. 3:16)through the conversations you had with your brother, may haved caused him to surrender his life even in the twilight seconds after a gunshot.
Elaine Kelly Randle
Debbie Wistrom
05/14/08
This is a masterpiece. Your descriptions are outstanding.

The only red ink I have is that I think enquiring should be inquiring.

Especailly loved this phrase "directed his life like a cheap Saturday night horror flick."

I feel this is a winner!
Mariane Holbrook
05/14/08
Oh my goodness, what can I say?? This could tear your readers' hearts out by the roots, yet you presented it with such understanding. A very good job on a very difficult subject!
Sara Harricharan
05/14/08
WOW! This is so good and so very sad. Thanks so much for sharing this! ^_^
Joanne Sher 
05/14/08
Very powerful - descriptions and emotion here REALLY pack a punch. Well done!
Lyn Churchyard
05/15/08
The opening descriptions fitted in with the story so perfectly from the cold to the trees succumbing to the dead of winter. What a heartbreaking story, but written so masterfully.
Marlene Austin
05/15/08
Graphic epitaph, indeed, with powerful telling.