When I was a Sophmore I went on a retreat that my high school has. Branded a religious retreat, it isn't focused on religion at all, atleast for the most part. It's a three day retreat on a camp ground, 120 kids, 40 leaders (Juniors), and a few teachers.
Second day, one of the leaders gave his talk, which is basically the person telling you about something they have went through and how they got through it. This talk brought me the closest to crying I have been for a very, very long time.
The story goes like this, from what I can remember.
His father was an incredibly healthy, and strong willed person. His life was great, and he was just so happy with his family as a whole. He had two younger brothers and a very loving mother. Life was just good and perfect.
Then, his father was diagnosed with Lou Gherig's disease. This disease eats away and causes muscles to atrophy. Over time, you are essentially watching who ever has it slowly, and painfully, fade away.
During this, his father kept going to work until he simply could not. He was then bed ridden. And his job was to help his father use the bathroom, and bring him food/drinks and overall take care of basic needs. His Mother would take over for the most part. But things got incredibly demanding, his father continued to deteriorate, and when you see someone become a weak, and destroyed shadow of who they once were, it eats at you. It breaks down your spirit, your soul, your entire being. And that's what happened to him.
Because he had to help his father more and more he began to become frustrated. His grades plummeted, his friend left him because he could not hang out. And what he had left was a family broken and devoid of spirit and hope. Holding on to a life precious to them as long as they could.
He began to hate his father. He began to hate him because he needed so much, because he took away so much from his life. That he lost everything because he was dying. He stopped caring. About everything, family, his life, everything. He was the man of the house, taking care of his two younger brothers. He stopped helping, and blew everyone off.
He started doing drugs. Starting with weed to help him forget. Then cocaine, then Oxy/Cough syrup. He began to do as many things he could so he could get away. So he could experience something other then hatred and depression. He didn't value his life anymore. He had given up. On everyone and everything.
He looked to God to help him. And things never got better. He tried, and tried, and begged. But nothing. So he gave up, and lost faith. He put everything down.
He was poised to take his own life.
And then someone entered his life, a person who would remain to be his bestfriend forever. Someone who helped him comeback. Helped him realize things were good. To love his father in the last few moments he had. He had hope. But then something turned the tables once again.
He came home one day to his mother crying. To paramedics in his home, and his fathers room. His father had died. Slipped away, before he could spend another moment with his father. To make things right.
Gone. His love, and his heart broken. Devoured, shattered to dust. He was broken.
What happened next, is something amazing. My entire school jumped to the aid of him and his family. He joined a group in school, a group I now participate in because of him. And through that, he absolved for his sins. He gave back to the world what he owed his father. To help those, so they don't fall into that dark hole. Something I live out now, for the same reason.
The song he played after is what wrecked me. I know some of you dislike this song, but listen to the words and it's application to his story, and you get it.
His story touched me, and nearly brought me to tears. I have never cried, for anything, even family deaths. I was devoid of those emotions because I was hated at the time. And I had nothing, my family had told me I was a failure, and that I was going to be homeless. My dad told me he was dissapointed to have me as his soon. And down the path I fell.
Now I'm here. Now everything is good, and perfect. My dad apologized a few months later, on his own accord.
This is not debate on whether God is real or not. It has nothing to do with it. It's about being thankful for what you have, and for the people you love. For the families and friends you still have. And that there is hope no matter how dark and desolate your situation may be. The world has a way of coming around. And it will.
TL;DR - You should really read this.
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