The double-edged sword of Psalm 23

Note:  This blog is intended to be authentic.  I will try to keep it clean, but I need to tell you that there may be a curse or two below.  This is my heart breaking that you're reading about.

It was April 11, 2022, about 8:15 pm.  I had a very busy day that included lunch at noon with a friend who had recently retired from where I work.  We went to a popular restaurant and sat at the windows upstairs with the nice view to the west.  I never get tired of having a view of our beautiful Colorado mountains.

I remember that I noticed, I think while we were waiting for our food, that I had a new Marco Polo video from my brother, Mark.  I was not in the habit of dropping everything to watch a Polo video and he knew that.  We had just found it was such a great way to keep in touch and "see" each other.  When he was unemployed during Covid, he would sometimes send several videos a day.  Every once in a while, one would include a chastisement from him for me not answering him yet.  But he was not really mad about it.  It's just that annoying thing where you're kind of bored and just want someone to talk to, I think.  Nevertheless, I loved all of his videos.

You see, Mark was 8 years old when I was born.  We didn't live together for very long.  My parents split up about 6 months after I was born.  I don't remember really being around Mark too much growing up.  I guess he lived with my dad for the most part and I never lived with my dad.  I barely even saw my dad.  But that's another story.

Anyway, I didn't watch the video because I was with my friend.  And then I didn't watch the video because I had an appointment.  And then I didn't watch it because my mother wanted to go to the nearby airport for lunch.  Except when we got in the car, she announced we were going to a steakhouse.  But that's another story.

When I got home, I was doing chores or who knows what I was doing but finally, at about 8:15, I was sorting laundry and decided to play the video.

Mark had been complaining of back pain and I had sent him a video to check on how he was doing as I hadn't received an update for several days.  I expected him to be fine, to laugh at my worried mind.  That is not what happened.

My big brother, the only man who seemed to always love me and find me interesting and worth his time, the man I spent a week driving around Montana with in 2021, laughing at each other and just having a lovely time enjoying each other's humor and reason and inspiration, was lying on his bed in his video with his sparse gray hair a little long for his shaved head and a scruffy salt and pepper beard and mustache, against the backdrop of blood red satin pillows.

When he started talking, he wasn't moving and seemed very stiff and he said, "Nah, nothing's better kid."  He went on to tell me of the excruciating pain he was in and then he said, "Consequently, I've made a decision, kid."

I turned the video off.  This is not happening.  Nope.  If I don't watch it, it doesn't happen.  It's not real.

A few seconds later ... I have no choice.  I must watch it.

I'm alone.  Should I go get mom?  No.  No, I can't do that.  For non-selfish reasons ... she's in her mid-seventies and has some health issues and she pretty much worships the ground he walks on ... and for very selfish reasons ... he sent it to ME.  It's MY duty and MY honor to be entrusted with whatever I'm about to hear.  I have to do this by myself.  He and I are the "We" in this.

This has to be a joke.  He's about to say, "I'm just messin' with ya!" and jump out of bed!  This isn't real!

I press play again.  Mark goes on to tell me that he's "outta here", that he has always said he didn't want to get old ... He did say that to me, several times.  Mark was not a depressed man.  He was an adventurer.  He was bold.  He was cocky and arrogant and funny and interesting and challenging and .... I never ever really put much stock in it.  He would probably die on his motorcycle, I figured, as he'd been street racing and eluding police on motorcycles basically his entire life.  It was bound to catch up to him at some point.  But ... suicide???

He had said he would just walk out into the Pacific.  That was his plan.  He lived in southern California and so it was a possibility, I suppose.  But my brother was NOT a depressed and suicidal person!!!

Yet, here he was, sending me a goodbye video ... and ... please, please don't kill yourself in front of me on this video!!  How is this happening?????

"And, of course, you know I love you, and I hate to leave you like this, but I just can't live my life ... not the way I want to anyway"

My heart was screaming, "Abba!  No!  No!"  My Lord and my Savior must not let this happen!!

Yet, Mark went on to tell me to give his toolbox and his compressor to his friend/neighbor, whose last name he couldn't recall.  That's how much he was hurting ... he couldn't recall names or the proper word for compressor for a few seconds and that wasn't like him.  He was sharp.

And another "I love you" closed out with "bye bye."

The video ended.  My panic increased exponentially.  What do I do???  I'm a cop.  I should know what to do.  I should BE ABLE TO HANDLE THIS BUT I NEED HELP!!!

"Abba!!  Please!  No!  OH, GOD, NO!!!!!"

Should I call him?  No, I can't call him.  What if he doesn't answer?  What if he does??  WHAT DO I DO?  I have no plan for this.  It's totally unexpected!  He bought tickets for us to go to Motley Crue here in Denver in July!

This. Cannot.  Be.  Happening!

Okay, I have to get out of the house.  I can't possibly drive right now.  I'll walk.  I'm going for a walk.

I go outside.  It's a warm enough evening.  I send him a panicked Marco Polo video.  To this day, I don't think I've watched that video.

And I know, I have to call someone.  My dear friend pops into my mind.  She's having a rough week, I know.  It's asking so much of her to come to my aid, but she is who I need right now.  My friend, my sister in Christ.  I call her.

I don't know what I said but she came so quickly.  

While I was waiting, I wondered, "What do I do?"  I have to go to L.A. either way.  If he's alive, how do I, the little sister, handle a suicidal big brother?  How can I possibly help him?  How do families live like this?  If he's not alive, well .... how do I deal with that?

I think I was still outside when she came.  I didn't want mom to hear me crying or anything I said.

She came and I got in her car, and we drove to our church.  She is a trusted volunteer there and had a key.  There was nobody else there.  We went into an office, and we talked about me not wanting to call him.  I think I eventually did call him, and he didn't answer, as I knew he wouldn't.

If Mark said he was going to kill himself, he for damn sure had done it.  At about noon.  When I was too busy socializing to pay attention to my brother.

BUT his Marco Polo account kept updating his "Last online" status. Through this whole scenario, it kept changing.

The below description may be out of order.  It's a blur, but this is how I remember it.

Okay, so who do I call now?  Who can help me figure this out?  I know his roommate's first name and I've met him once before briefly, but I don't have his contact information.  The friend he mentioned in his video, he didn't remember his last name and I didn't have his contact information either.  Mark and his most recent girlfriend that I was aware of had broken up probably a year before and I knew her first name too and had met her but had no idea how to contact her either.

Well, that leaves Facebook and the police.

I got on Mark's Facebook page, and I found his roommate's Facebook page.  I went to Messenger and tried to call his roommate, but his account would not allow me to do that, so I sent him a message.  And his neighbor ... it took a bit longer to identify his account because I'd never seen him and his first name is not uncommon, but I found a man with that name and a picture of him in his military uniform and I knew it was the right military branch and most likely the right guy.

I called him.  No answer but was able to leave him a voicemail and I sent him a message that was fairly clear about what was going on.

Meanwhile, I tried to call the police.  As a cop, I had absolutely no patience for the damn phone tree.  I texted my co-worker, a friend of many years who I think of as extremely competent and compassionate and trustworthy.  he knows a lot of people at other agencies.  "Are you working?  I need help.  It's urgent."  He called me right away and got to work.  He was able to connect with someone (I have no idea who or how) and he said they were going out to the house to check and were supposed to call HIM, not me.

Now, we wait.

I don't know what else to do.

I feel desperate.  I need God to help me.  

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

What verse is that?

I search it on the internet.

Psalm 23.

I pull it up on Bible Gateway and I read it aloud:

KJV

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:  he leadeth me beside still waters.

He restoreth my soul."

Break.  My voice is quaking, tears are streaming.

I gather myself.

"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will FEAR NO EVIL: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:  thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:  and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

Oh, God, Mark doesn't understand this.  Please, please don't let him die without knowing you!

They called me.  A very nice young officer called, and she asked me about the situation, and I offered her the information she needed.  I think she asked me if he might have a gun.  Yes, probably.  Would he hurt them? I said, "I don't know.  This is not my brother.  I don't know."  In his right mind, no way, not ever.  He was so proud of me being a cop.  He didn't like cops at all growing up and he even tried to dissuade me from the career, but ultimately, after many years at my job, he was PROUD of me.  But this man who I imagined had shot himself in his bed?  I don't know that guy.

I should have known that guy.  I failed him in the worst ways.  I'm so very sorry for that.

So, the officer says she will call me back.

We wait.

After a long enough time that I'm now very certain he's dead - I am well versed on these scenes and how long it takes to sort them out - the officer calls me back.

She said his roommate was home and let them in.  He told them that he hadn't seen Mark and that he had been unusually reclusive the past few days, but he hadn't really thought much about it.  Again, my brother was not a dramatic guy.  He was very emotionally stable and didn't put up with drama in his life.

She said they went upstairs to Mark's room.  They didn't hear any responses and so they did go into his room.  They could see that he was in bed and that there was a gun in his hand.  He didn't respond to them.  They had to "tactically retreat."

Okay.  And this is why I hesitated to call.  I don't want to put them in danger.  As much as I love my brother, I am not okay with any kind of suicide-by-cop scenario.  I have heard many a suicidal party call dispatched, and I always worry for the officers responding.  It's such a tough situation.  We're not therapists.  This is not our area of expertise.  And suicide by cop (or at least the attempt to bait a cop into facilitating that) is not an uncommon thing.  I cannot IMAGINE how I would have felt if he had hurt them.

The only reason I still thought he might be alive was the stupid Marco Polo account updating.

I ask her if they talked to him.  She said he didn't respond to them, but they left his bedroom door open, and it closed after they got downstairs.

Is he still alive???  Oh God help him!  I need help!

I thank her for the information.  The professional in me understands.  The sister in me is devastated and lost.

Then the neighbor calls me and he's YOUNG.  He's just a kid, 25 years old.  But he's a man.  He says, "I'll go talk to him.  I'm not afraid of him.  I'll ask him to give me the gun."

Oh, precious soul, thank you so, so very much.  I knew that they spent a fair amount of time together and that the neighbor probably, in some ways, might even know him better than me, seeing him most days, which I never did.

We wait again.  What were we doing?  I don't know.  My coworker, who the police were supposed to call, checked on me and I let him know what happened.  I don't remember what he said but I am pretty sure he was also disappointed but not surprised.

Finally, the last call comes.  He says, "Are you sitting down?"  Ha.  Everyone always says that.  My dad told me to pull over when he called me to tell me my sister had died in 2011 when I was driving to work.

The neighbor (I truly adore this young man but I'm just respecting his privacy here) tells me that he went in Mark's room, and he took the gun away, but Mark was cold and stiff and had been gone a long time.  Yes, he has the training and experience, even at 25, to know that.  I don't know, to this day, exactly why he has that training and experience, but I think it has to do with his military service.

So, that's it, then.  I tell him I am so very, very sorry that he had to see that.  I'm heartbroken for him to have to see his friend that way.  I guess I told him I would be on my way out as soon as possible and we hang up.

And I fall apart.  I sob from the pit of my soul.  I didn't just lose my brother.  I lost my brother's soul.  I believe there is a hell and I believe that to me, and so many who knew him, he was a great guy.  But I also have no reason to believe that he ever asked Jesus to come into his heart, that he ever accepted Christ as his Savior.

I failed him. 

I can't undo that.

Ever.

He is lost.  FOR EVER.

While I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.  Without him.

No, God.  NO!

Can you fold time and make him see the hope that I failed to reveal to him?  You're not beholden to time.  You can do that.  Please, Lord, please do that for me.  Will you please?  God, it's all I want in this world, to see my precious brother in Heaven.  Please, God, let me be wrong.  Let me be wrong about what Jesus meant, what the Bible says.  Let me be so very, very wrong.

It's July 17th, now.  He's been gone over two months.  Every Monday at 12:11 pm, I stop whatever I'm doing and watch the video again.  Yes, even if I had watched it right away that day, he would still be dead.  I'm sure of it.  But at least I would have been paying damn attention.

This past weekend, I went camping with friends from church.  Yes, I'm still going.  I'm a true believer and follower of Christ.  I didn't talk to God for a little while.  My greatest fear was that He wouldn't answer me.  He wouldn't pay attention.  But He has been right beside me and He has let me know that several times.  But that's another story.

On Sunday morning, while others were cooking breakfast, a friend of mine asked if he could play Mark's guitar.  I brought the acoustic with me.  I don't know how to play.  I hadn't even mentioned that I'd brought it.  But my sweet friend remembered I had intended to, or maybe he saw that I had brought it.  I was so happy to go get it.

I was sitting several seats away when he started strumming, tuning it.  And suddenly, tears were streaming down my face.  I never saw or heard Mark play.  After quite a few minutes, I went over and sat by him and saw that he had tears in his eyes too.  There was something meaningful for him in that moment, too.  We sat there, him just strumming, messing around, the beautiful soothing sound of an acoustic guitar, and we were kind of quiet for a few minutes.  We talked a little.  He asked me to learn to play and I agreed.  Then, it was time for breakfast.

Afterwards, one of my friends did a brief devotional for the group.  I had been told that it would be on Psalm 23, but I didn't ever look to see which Psalm that was, and I didn't recall what the number was from the night of Mark's death.  So, I was totally caught off guard when, after I prayed for our meeting, at her request, she handed us a sheet of paper with the words I'd read that night printed out and asked us to read them aloud with her.

NKJV

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He makes me to lie down in green pastures ..."

I fell apart.  I couldn't speak.  I was sobbing.  My precious brother, my precious, precious brother, oh how it hurts that he's gone.

I guess I had a little panic attack.  I didn't get up.  I stayed there and tried to regain my composure.  Another friend rubbed my back sweetly.

I don't really have any idea what our friend taught about ... something about tunnels and light outside ... I could see she was so passionate about what she was saying, and I was just trying to hold it together.  I was able to participate a little further in, but I don't know what I said or why.  I know I didn't explain my tears.  I couldn't.

At the end of the devotional, I was able to read the whole psalm out loud.

Yes, I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever, but I would give anything short of my soul to have my big brother back.  I'm lost without him.

Now, the only man in my life is ... my God.  Maybe he's using this evil that Satan brought into the world for some good.  I can't see it right now.  

But I love him and I'm trying to trust him.  I would be lying if I said I don't have any hope at all that Mark's in Heaven, but it's not based on much of anything Biblical and that is a very painful point.  Devestatingly painful.

Heaven cannot be presumed.  That is a lie from Satan.  Heaven can only be reached through the narrow gate.  That's what Jesus said.  Matthew 7:13-14. It doesn't matter how much I wish it were otherwise.