James
Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
I was just climbing into bed last night when my phone rang. It was my sister Bethie in California, and it is typically not a good sign when you get a late phone call from a relative. I like to keep my stories uplifting or even a bit silly, but sorry, not this time. I often muse about what it’s like to get older, and probably the worst part is outliving people that you love. Now Bethie and I are the last of five siblings, and so I knew she was OK. I cringed when I answered the phone, fearing the worst, and, sure enough, it was not good news. My sister Viki, who was number 3 of us 5, was the first of the siblings to move on up to where the streets are paved with gold. She had two sons, the oldest named James. The worst part about this whole thing was that he apparently committed suicide. And that is what I need to write about. My mind is in a tizzy, and I need to express myself to process this sad news.
James was one of those gentle giants. He was larger than most children his age and was strong as a horse, but always was a gentle soul. My earliest recollections about him was when his father used to put him on the top of the refrigerator and James would trustingly jump off into his daddy’s arms. The child had no fear. His younger brother was nothing like him and was always about half his size. I never saw any streak of meanness, even when he grew older. James was the person that had to make the decision to take his mother off life support when it was her time to go. Our hearts all ached for him, as it was clear that having to make that decision was tearing him apart. But being the strong man that he had become, he stepped up and did what he had to do. He was a talented chef and lived on the California coast. Things seemed to be going well for him, but we really were not so close that he would have shared his depressive thoughts with me. I sure wish that were not the case because I would have loved to have had the opportunity to talk him out of what he ultimately did.
Here-in lies my “been there, done that” experience that could have helped him. I, too, suffer from depression but have learned to deal with it appropriately. It wasn’t always that way, and I had even gone so far as attempting suicide myself. I believe that God saved me from that fate, I’ll explain. I feel the why of what I did is irrelevant, but I will share the how. I took my Bible with me to the truck that was in the garage. I closed the garage door and opened my Bible to read. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come home and opened the windows of the truck and started it up. I don’t know how long I was in that exhaust filled garage, but I remember it was long enough to get groggy. All of a sudden, the garage door was flung open by someone that wasn’t supposed to be coming home, and I was busted. I had the worst headache for the longest time, and I knew that God was telling me it was not my time to go.
The things that drove me to this attempt were not resolved yet, and I had to endure more lessons from the school of hard knocks, but that nasty headache was enough to stop me from trying that move again. I remember thinking about it a couple more times, but the farthest I went was to call the suicide prevention hot line. I know it’s an old joke, but I really got put on hold for what seemed like the longest time. I got past it and turned my life around, and can now view my depression in the light of God. As bad as things were, I have since experienced more joy than I could have imagined. I credit God for the turnaround. Since that time, I have seriously sought God’s guidance in my life decisions and have learned how to listen to Him. I wish I could have shared this with James. I have so much more that I could say.
