Alan M Hallene Jr. - The Hope of Heaven: Gods Eight Messages of Assurance to a Grieving Father

2015 by Alan Hallene Jr.

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ISBN: 978-0-7180-2206-8 (eBook)

Cataloging-in-Publication Data available through the Library of Congress

ISBN: 978-0-7180-2205-1

15 16 17 18 19 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

To God, who joined me as a fellow grieving Father on the worst day of my life. You showed me that you understand because you also lost a Son. Your kindness, approachability, and omniscience assured me then that my son is secure and happy for eternity, and you continue to strengthen me with the hope that I will see him again someday.

Also to my three Yellow Roses of Texasmy sons Yalex, Bryboy, and Jimboband to Mom and Dad

Contents

But you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the LORD, and he answers me from his holy mountain.

PSALM 3:34

I n the dark, early hours of October 2, 2008, my oldest son, Alex, left a message on my cell phone. So few words, but ones that changed my life forever.

I missed the call, his last to me, because my phone was charging in the living room.

He had left a message on my phone two days earlier, telling me how proud he was of me and that I was his hero. That one had seemed overly loving, but this one made me shiver as I listened to it later that morning.

Dad, I love you. Im sorry to let you and Mom down. Good-bye...

His words and tone set a host of fears churning in my heart. Frantic, I tried several times to reach him. I even called my other two sons, Bryan and Jimmy, but they hadnt heard from him. So I rushed to my car and drove the three hours from my home in Moline to our condominium in Champaign, where Alex was living while in his senior year at the University of Illinois.

I made the drive in two hours, barely able to breathe as I hurried to Alexs aid. It was a familiar journey. Id traveled those roads countless times, many just in the previous months. Throughout that semester and the previous school year, I had made a habit of visiting Alex every other week or so to buy him groceries and fill up his Blazer with gas, really just to check on him. I knew he had been struggling with school pressures, but he seemed to be holding his own after a difficult time.

Never had the drive gone so quickly yet seemed so long. Even though I didnt actually know, I knew in my gut that he was gone. Everything in me wanted to get there, to see his smile and prove my instincts wrong, to listen to him laugh, to hear him say teasingly, Relax, Al. Whats bugging you? This time, I promised myself, I wouldnt even get on him about the cigarette I imagined hanging from his mouth as he said it. Everything in me wanted to turn back the clock and demand a do-over, to shake off the tornado of dread inside.

Finally I turned in to the condominium complex, pulled in to the driveway, and ran up to the door. It was locked, but a note in Alexs handwriting was taped to it. Do not enter!! Call Al Hallene. He had added my cell number.

With a sinking heart I ran the stretch of front yards in the complex, then around the farthest one and through all the backyards to our unit. My emotions must have sent me into frantic confusion to sprint the length of a football field when I could have cut between two buildings.

Finally I stood looking into the rear picture window. The blinds were open, and my fears were confirmed. I was staring at my childs death scene. His body was hanging from a rope, obviously lifeless.

My knees buckled, and I went down.

I struggled to regain my footing and looked around for a planter or something heavy to shatter the window. But then I had a hunch that Alex had left the door unlocked for me. He had, so I ran inside and somehow lifted him up and removed the noose before we collapsed to the floor together.

As sobs wracked my body, I felt the stiffness of Alexs form. It was apparent from the rigor and the coolness of his skin that he was gone. Nonetheless, I tried a few rounds of CPR. He had been gone for hours, likely soon after leaving that late-night voice mail for me.

I held him and rocked him. It was all I could think to do right then. I bargained with God to let me trade places with my son, this young man with dark hair and features so like my own. His beautiful eyes that had gazed up at me in his first moments of life now saw nothing when I looked into them.

Minutes passed, then through my tears I noticed a small envelope on a nearby table. I managed to reach it and strained to read Alexs last words, scrawled in the familiar chicken-scratch handwriting family members had always joked to him about. Im sorry to everyone, especially my family. You guys were great. Please try to forgive me. I love you all.

Those few poignant words reveal the essence of who Alex was: a great son and an excellent big brother who loved his family and cared so much for others that he regretted his act would cause us such grief.

To say that moment didnt make sense to me, well, the size of the understatement is sickly laughable. Nearly twenty-three years worth of learning and growing, laughing and disciplining, conversations about random happenings and big life issues, vacations and holidays, countless sporting events, tears and triumphsall the things we enjoy with those we love, relationship minutiae we live without noticingit was all gone. The pain of grief nearly choked me in those first minutes.