That’s the Way He Felt

In the spring of this year, one of our guests who had a serious mental illness was beaten into a coma on a street nearby.  He struggled over the months with some response, but was not able to regain his speech.  In a nursing home, his tracheotomy was not cleaned as needed, so he contracted a deadly infection and died Nov. 4th. 

About 20 people came to his funeral in a small chapel at the funeral home.  Now 67, he had grown up in prison for the most part.  He was set free finally a few years ago and didn’t know how to deal with his new-found liberty.  He would act out, get placed in a hospital psych ward for a few days and put out on the street again--homeless.  His family couldn’t deal with his erratic, and at times explosive, behavior, and his brother even had to get a PPO (Personal Protection Order) against him.  I found him to be a challenge to everything I learned about dealing with mental illness and at times felt driven to the edge myself.

In spite of all of this, I could relate to the family and friends at the funeral that he had a soft heart.  He wanted so much to be accepted and be a part of normal life.  Medication was out of the question because it made him different, and he “wasn’t mentally ill.”  One time I took him to a cleaners where he had left a suit.  The clerk was having a hard time finding his suit, so he said, “I’m going next door to buy something to drink.  Do you want something, Br. Bob?”  I said I didn’t want anything.  He insisted, so I asked for a small bottle of grape juice.  He came back with a six pack for me.  I told him he shouldn’t spend his money that way, and he said, “Money is for spending.  It is meant to give us pleasure.”  With all his foibles and handicaps, this man had an ability to love and enjoy life to some degree.  He loved to dress up.  He enjoyed music and reading the Bible.

We all went to his oldest brother’s home after the funeral for some food and fellowship. When I left, his brother walked me to the car and said, “The (prison) system failed my brother, the mental health system failed him, and now the family has failed him.”  That’s the way he felt.  What a sad ending to a unique lifetime of 67 years.  In spite of it all, there was purpose for this man’s life, and he knew his God.  I’d love to listen now to the conversation going on between God and him. –Br. Bob