The Hope in Death

A few weeks ago my first cousin died.

I know that as you read that sentence you will silently utter condolences and wonder if we were close. Thank you and we were not. We were not close for two main reasons. The first is that I am the product of a military family. My dad being in the Air Force for all of my formative years, we were never in more than one place for more than four years and never lived in Baytown, TX where my cousin lived and died. The second reason is that he, Damon Bates Broussard, was mentally challenged. So that you will know exactly what I'm talking about, though the phrase has fallen out of political correctness, he was diagnosed as mentally retarded soon after he was born.

What this came to mean to his family and all that new and loved him is that he would never be able to converse as most people do. It came to mean that he would never be able to care for himself. It meant that he was completely dependant on others for survival and daily care. Sure his motor skills were fine but somewhere along the way a short circuiting of what we might consider normal mental faculties eluded him and set the course of life for his family from that day to this.

My beloved Aunt Eva and Uncle Roy loved Damon with all of their hearts. Everything they did throughout the entirety of his life revolved around caring for him and providing for his needs. Times got tough, money got short and their own health issues intruded but Damon never went without his bodily needs nor his need for love. Aunt Eva in particular provided for his daily cleaning, feeding, clothes washing and mental stimulation. They developed a type of sign language that helped them understand one another. The casual observer might have felt sorry for everyone involved, but appearances from the outside can often be deceiving.

A woman of faith herself, raised in a family of faith, she relied totally on her relationship with God to count a life of raising Damon all joy. She blossomed into someone who knew intimately what servant hood and humility are all about. Unlike many of us, she has always known her mission in life. Countless individuals have been encouraged by her strength, her resolve and her love.

I cannot tell you what Damon went through, what he thought or how he felt. You and I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in such an incapacitated mental state, though I'm sure for him, it was all he knew. I know I've seen him happy and I've seen him sad. I've seen him experience joy and I've seen him experience anger. Most of all, I've seen him give and receive love.

This brings me to the point of this writing. What must life be like for Damon now? Since the Father has called him home, has he been released from that which afflicted him? I can't help but think of the Gadarene who was relieved of those that possessed him after coming into contact with Jesus in Mark 5. I imagine Damon being "clothed and in his right mind." I imagine the day that his mother, father and the rest of his family meets him in the life to come. I imagine him saying to Eva, "Hi mom. I love you," as Jesus stands at a distance and smiles. And I imagine this scene being repeated for so many of us that have lost loved ones that are now absent from the body but present with the Lord.

There is indeed for some, yet available for all, hope in death.


Revival