Keith drank himself to death sometime before dawn, Saturday morning. I didn’t know him, but it disturbs me. He was thirty-five.
I had a mini freak out moment when John told me someone died. Fear sunk deep in my stomach like an anchor dropped at sea. Who could it be? Do I know them? The unknown is terrifying. This is probably wrong to admit, but I was relieved to discover I didn’t know Keith. Still, I’m troubled and it’s got me thinking.
How did I dodge this bullet?
Keith died; I didn’t. He drowned beneath a bottle and I bled myself dry, pricked by a dirty needle, yet I’m still breathing and he’s dead. God doesn’t always make sense to me. Words escape me and I don’t have any answers. God must have a plan for me. Please pray that I would be willing to surrender more fully, because this life isn’t mine.
Keith’s parents are struggling with the loss of their son and the feeling that they failed. Seeing so much promise wasted, they’re filled with remorse and regret watching a vibrant life expire. Please keep them in your prayers.
