Two potential tragedies

I watch the young man struggling for life, tears seeping from his eyes, mouth being suctioned around the tubes entering his throat. I realize that I really don't know: is he struggling to live or struggling to die? Was the simple joy that I remember celebrating in him as a boy really just a harbinger of his addiction, by which he'd attempt in vain to cling to or recapture such fleeting moments rather than simply living his life?

This morning I drove past my parish, which is currently set up for our annual festival. The ride closest to the street is the kids' dragon-themed roller coaster. One year when he was really too big for it - and knew it - he and a friend forsook every other ride on the grounds for a couple hours to repeatedly ride in the last seat of this one, laughing hysterically on every circuit of the train around the tracks, rushing at the conclusion of each admission to get back into line and do it once more. They clearly knew it was silly for them to be having so much fun on a ride designed for smaller children, and clung determinedly to the simple joy that they were experiencing, somehow aware that such moments would soon be unrepeatable.

I'm not writing a eulogy. His story isn't over yet. He has two little girls who need a dad who can show them how to appreciate simple joy, and he needs to rediscover his capacity for it before he enters eternity.

But God knows what he and his loved ones need more than I do, and I trust Him to provide it for them according to his providential plan. His dad, who administered CPR to him when he collapsed Tuesday night (not Monday as I misunderstood based on the time stamp of his grandfather's text message) acknowledges even in the midst of this dark moment: in all things, give praise to God.

The other potential tragedy is my own grandson, who seems to be on the same path. I have no way of contacting him, but I long for him to see where his choices might lead him, that he might make different ones. Father, please lead him back to us, to You.