An Old Friend...
It is simply unfair the pain and struggle that some people must endure in their lives. A friend from highschool passed away suddenly and tragically on Wednesday. We did not stay close after highschool, after he moved away, got married very young, and started a family. Thankfully, facebook allowed us to reconnect several years ago.
Sadly, Darren's story is too similar to Mike's story. They both married fairly young (Darren, quite young), they both struggled in their marriages, with their illnesses and to feel free and comfortable to be just who they were, and to be accepted being just who they were. They both had children - Darren had two little boys, Owen and Max, and Mike had sweet Hannah. They both struggled with mental illness and were finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. They were both married to women who struggled to deal with all that bipolar entails, and struggled with how to handle the behaviours themselves, and how to keep their children safe. But of all of the nasty things that bipolar brings about, neither of these men would EVER harm their children. In fact, their children became the only thing that they felt they had to live for in the end. Both of Darren and Mike's wives decided it was too much for them and for their children, and both of them moved out. Mike's wife, just down the street, but Darren's wife moved herself and their children two provinces away. As if that would not be enough, both families began the process of nasty, nasty custody battles.
Mike and I were very, very close friends, and two days before he died he asked me to come to court with him, to stand by him and support him. I would never hesitate to do whatever Mike needed of me, because he was my friend. Darren and I reconnected in 2010, not long after Mike passed away, when I learned that he too was struggling with bipolar disorder and was having a hard time seeing that he had any support. Darren and I shared dozens of messages back and forth over the last 2 years, with him venting, as he needed to, and with me offering an ear, supportive words, and advice if he wanted it, or if I had any. That was all he needed from me.
Both of these men were sensitive, sweet, emotional, and so very loving ,but bipolar disorder turned them into different people. People that they were not only not proud to be, but who they were ashamed to be, and who didn't want to burden people with what they had become. I adored Mike, and became closer to Darren, and I know that of all the things that they did that they were not proud of, they would have never harmed their children. What I struggle to understand is how a mother can believe it is the best thing for their children to never see their fathers. How on earth is it better for a child to have no contact with his/her father? How on earth is it worthwhile to put a child through a nasty custody battle? I know that you can never fully know how you would behave in a particular situation until you actually find YOURSELF in that situation, but I can not ever see that removing a parent from a child's life, on purpose, could ever be the right thing for a child- in this situation anyways. I do not understand how someone who is struggling mentally can be expected to take the removal of their children in stride. I do not understand how someone who vowed to stand by you, in sickness and in health, can see you at your very worst and decide that what you need is to be excluded from the lives of your children.
I laid in bed last night thinking about Darren; thinking about his struggle, thinking about the words that he had written to me so many times and thinking about how much of a shame it is for a life to be consumed with such sadness and such trauma, only to be cut short so tragically. I was thinking about how unfair it was. Then Brady got home, and like water rushing towards a dam, the gate opened and the tears fell. I feel blessed to have a person like him in my life. I didn't even know that the tears were ready to fall until he walked into the room and they spilled. It breaks me apart that Darren's story is not unique to us. I made Brady promise to me that if I ever get sick, that if something like this ever happens to us, that he does not ever stop me from seeing my (future) kids. Even if that means that he, or someone else has to be there to supervise - he had to promise that he would never stop our kids from seeing me, or ever stop me from seeing them. Brady's response was that he could never ever do that, that it is so unfair for a child. And I do believe that he could never do it, but the part that is scary is that I am sure no person ever thinks they are capable of doing something so hurtful to a person they once loved so much, to children that they still love so much.
As I woke up this morning, Darren was the first thing on my mind. What seems unreal to me is how something so tragic can happen in this world, and the days continue to go by. I remember when Mike died being so amazed that the rest of the world was able to continue moving along, when the only thing that seemed right and sane to me was for the world to stop. At least for a few moments. We had lost someone so special to us and our lives would never be the same, and the world did not even have the "heart" to stop for a moment, to stop for a day, or to stop for a week.
One thing that I can be grateful for, at this moment, is that I was able to be something to Darren when he felt like he didn't have very much. I am grateful that my experience with my dear friend Mike allowed me to open my eyes to the struggles of others, and to reach out to others - because, really, there can be no wrong in reaching out to someone in need. If they don't need the help or the support, then they don't take it. But if they do, maybe it can help to turn their week around, or their day around, or even turn just a few moments around for them. Maybe that doesn't seem like much, but to someone who feels like they have nothing, a few moments could be a blessing.
I think of a the lyrics to a Paul Brandt Song called Together Again - "That's just the way this old world works, moments of heaven mixed with moments of hurt. I'll be waiting till we are together again." Watch over your boys Darren, they will need you, until you can be together again.
Sadly, Darren's story is too similar to Mike's story. They both married fairly young (Darren, quite young), they both struggled in their marriages, with their illnesses and to feel free and comfortable to be just who they were, and to be accepted being just who they were. They both had children - Darren had two little boys, Owen and Max, and Mike had sweet Hannah. They both struggled with mental illness and were finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. They were both married to women who struggled to deal with all that bipolar entails, and struggled with how to handle the behaviours themselves, and how to keep their children safe. But of all of the nasty things that bipolar brings about, neither of these men would EVER harm their children. In fact, their children became the only thing that they felt they had to live for in the end. Both of Darren and Mike's wives decided it was too much for them and for their children, and both of them moved out. Mike's wife, just down the street, but Darren's wife moved herself and their children two provinces away. As if that would not be enough, both families began the process of nasty, nasty custody battles.
Mike and I were very, very close friends, and two days before he died he asked me to come to court with him, to stand by him and support him. I would never hesitate to do whatever Mike needed of me, because he was my friend. Darren and I reconnected in 2010, not long after Mike passed away, when I learned that he too was struggling with bipolar disorder and was having a hard time seeing that he had any support. Darren and I shared dozens of messages back and forth over the last 2 years, with him venting, as he needed to, and with me offering an ear, supportive words, and advice if he wanted it, or if I had any. That was all he needed from me.
Both of these men were sensitive, sweet, emotional, and so very loving ,but bipolar disorder turned them into different people. People that they were not only not proud to be, but who they were ashamed to be, and who didn't want to burden people with what they had become. I adored Mike, and became closer to Darren, and I know that of all the things that they did that they were not proud of, they would have never harmed their children. What I struggle to understand is how a mother can believe it is the best thing for their children to never see their fathers. How on earth is it better for a child to have no contact with his/her father? How on earth is it worthwhile to put a child through a nasty custody battle? I know that you can never fully know how you would behave in a particular situation until you actually find YOURSELF in that situation, but I can not ever see that removing a parent from a child's life, on purpose, could ever be the right thing for a child- in this situation anyways. I do not understand how someone who is struggling mentally can be expected to take the removal of their children in stride. I do not understand how someone who vowed to stand by you, in sickness and in health, can see you at your very worst and decide that what you need is to be excluded from the lives of your children.
I laid in bed last night thinking about Darren; thinking about his struggle, thinking about the words that he had written to me so many times and thinking about how much of a shame it is for a life to be consumed with such sadness and such trauma, only to be cut short so tragically. I was thinking about how unfair it was. Then Brady got home, and like water rushing towards a dam, the gate opened and the tears fell. I feel blessed to have a person like him in my life. I didn't even know that the tears were ready to fall until he walked into the room and they spilled. It breaks me apart that Darren's story is not unique to us. I made Brady promise to me that if I ever get sick, that if something like this ever happens to us, that he does not ever stop me from seeing my (future) kids. Even if that means that he, or someone else has to be there to supervise - he had to promise that he would never stop our kids from seeing me, or ever stop me from seeing them. Brady's response was that he could never ever do that, that it is so unfair for a child. And I do believe that he could never do it, but the part that is scary is that I am sure no person ever thinks they are capable of doing something so hurtful to a person they once loved so much, to children that they still love so much.
As I woke up this morning, Darren was the first thing on my mind. What seems unreal to me is how something so tragic can happen in this world, and the days continue to go by. I remember when Mike died being so amazed that the rest of the world was able to continue moving along, when the only thing that seemed right and sane to me was for the world to stop. At least for a few moments. We had lost someone so special to us and our lives would never be the same, and the world did not even have the "heart" to stop for a moment, to stop for a day, or to stop for a week.
One thing that I can be grateful for, at this moment, is that I was able to be something to Darren when he felt like he didn't have very much. I am grateful that my experience with my dear friend Mike allowed me to open my eyes to the struggles of others, and to reach out to others - because, really, there can be no wrong in reaching out to someone in need. If they don't need the help or the support, then they don't take it. But if they do, maybe it can help to turn their week around, or their day around, or even turn just a few moments around for them. Maybe that doesn't seem like much, but to someone who feels like they have nothing, a few moments could be a blessing.
I think of a the lyrics to a Paul Brandt Song called Together Again - "That's just the way this old world works, moments of heaven mixed with moments of hurt. I'll be waiting till we are together again." Watch over your boys Darren, they will need you, until you can be together again.
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