Thy will, not mine
It is with a heavy, confused, hopeful and scared heart that I am posting to express my grief at the loss of my son. For the past 1872 days on my journey of sobriety, I have, as a father, been hoping my son would be delivered from his mental illness, and the self-medicating addictions that went along with it. It's easy to talk about someone being "constitutionally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living that demands rigorous honesty". When it's your baby, it hurts more than anything. I wanted to have him receive the gift of true happiness here on earth, but it wasn't meant to be. I know it was not God's will. He needed to be fixed by God, and God needed him "home" to do his work. I found my son in his bed, and I believe he was at peace and is in peace. I just never imagined the hurt and despair I was to feel. But, more importantly, I have found the love and compassion inside and outside "the rooms". I know Timmy was loved, and I know I am loved. I pray for my family and I give thanks to God for the time we had with Timmy.
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