Remembering Dave
My oldest brother Dave died at the age of 58 in 2014. While his life wasn't sterling, I believe he was "beloved by God" as his name "David" means.
Dave had a tough life. My step-dad, the third man in my mother and brothers' life, agreed that Dave started out life "with two strikes against him".
As a toddler, he was hyperactive. He got hit by a car at age 2 when he ran out into the street. Later on, we discovered that some of his long-standing behavioral issues stemmed from damage to his frontal lobe which likely occurred from that accident.
He was diagnosed with ADHD in school and put on Ritalin. He got mostly D's in school, but he had an amazing photographic memory. He loved to read phone books and the farmer's almanac. He could remember all kinds of facts.
He was also somewhat autistic. He had the ability to focus intently and stick with his main interest - collecting golf balls. He didn't understand much of social interactions or why people did what they did, but he could comb a golf course rough and dig out a pond with the best of them. Over his lifetime he collected over 500,000 golf balls. He was truly a one-of-a-kind individual.
He was diagnosed as bipolar in his early 20's. Manic depression is a roller coaster of emotions. We never knew what to expect from him. When he was up, he was on top of the world (which he was most of the time); but when he was down, it was heartbreaking to witness. Medication helped him, but only when he took it consistently and didn't drink alcohol.
But Dave was an alcoholic. He started drinking in his late teens and continued until a few months before he died. He was an alcoholic for over 35 years. He had lived in an apartment in his early 20's, but he was eventually evicted for buying alcohol for minors. After that he was homeless and lived on the street for over 17 years.
He always had a running monologue about the same subjects. "I'm a nice guy"; "I don't drink wine or liquor, but I love my beer"; "I love my job and I love myself" referring to his "job" of collecting cans for money. He also had this line "Grand Rapids: churches, banks, attorneys, beautiful women... and 10) whatever you want." Everyone who knew him had heard this line and could quote him verbatim. I think he thought he was an expert at the art of talking.
He had a record for the second highest number of misdemeanor charges in Kent county. He often spent days in Kent County Jail, and on one occasion, almost a year. He wasn't violent necessarily; it was just that being homeless led to some minor infractions of the law (trespassing, disturbing the peace, open beer in public, and other random charges that went along with living outside.) Yet he was still loved by God.
Thankfully, we were contacted in 2004 by a man with a ministry called Servant Center. He had met Dave and had been working to develop a relationship of trust with him. Now he needed my help to get Dave on disability. Through some amazing twists and turns and by the grace of God, we were able to get the necessary identification means and Dave was approved.
Finally, Dave had a place he could call home. He still had some habits from the street, but we knew he was safe and out of the elements. He found a few odd jobs, like sweeping the parking lot of a nearby business, and of course, collecting cans. He had regular routes mapped out for collecting cans; some by the day or week and some depending on the weather. He had his bus pass and made the rounds regularly. Many people around town knew or at least recognized him. Almost all of the sheriff's department knew him. Some even said they thought he looked like Charles Manson. But for the most part, he was harmless.
In the end when he passed away, we had a nice memorial service for him at the cemetery. Even though most of our family was already gone, my dad's cousin and business partner surprised me by coming. I was touched to the point of tears. For all the idiosyncrasies, challenges, frustrations, and heartaches that were Dave, this respected businessman and loyal family member still came to join us in honoring Dave's memory.
It was a blessing. And even though I don't know if Dave ever fully understood the gospel (even though I tried with all my heart to explain it to him), I have to trust that God knew his heart and that he is in good hands.
Blessings.
Dave had a tough life. My step-dad, the third man in my mother and brothers' life, agreed that Dave started out life "with two strikes against him".
As a toddler, he was hyperactive. He got hit by a car at age 2 when he ran out into the street. Later on, we discovered that some of his long-standing behavioral issues stemmed from damage to his frontal lobe which likely occurred from that accident.
He was diagnosed with ADHD in school and put on Ritalin. He got mostly D's in school, but he had an amazing photographic memory. He loved to read phone books and the farmer's almanac. He could remember all kinds of facts.
He was also somewhat autistic. He had the ability to focus intently and stick with his main interest - collecting golf balls. He didn't understand much of social interactions or why people did what they did, but he could comb a golf course rough and dig out a pond with the best of them. Over his lifetime he collected over 500,000 golf balls. He was truly a one-of-a-kind individual.
He was diagnosed as bipolar in his early 20's. Manic depression is a roller coaster of emotions. We never knew what to expect from him. When he was up, he was on top of the world (which he was most of the time); but when he was down, it was heartbreaking to witness. Medication helped him, but only when he took it consistently and didn't drink alcohol.
But Dave was an alcoholic. He started drinking in his late teens and continued until a few months before he died. He was an alcoholic for over 35 years. He had lived in an apartment in his early 20's, but he was eventually evicted for buying alcohol for minors. After that he was homeless and lived on the street for over 17 years.
He had a record for the second highest number of misdemeanor charges in Kent county. He often spent days in Kent County Jail, and on one occasion, almost a year. He wasn't violent necessarily; it was just that being homeless led to some minor infractions of the law (trespassing, disturbing the peace, open beer in public, and other random charges that went along with living outside.) Yet he was still loved by God.
Thankfully, we were contacted in 2004 by a man with a ministry called Servant Center. He had met Dave and had been working to develop a relationship of trust with him. Now he needed my help to get Dave on disability. Through some amazing twists and turns and by the grace of God, we were able to get the necessary identification means and Dave was approved.
Finally, Dave had a place he could call home. He still had some habits from the street, but we knew he was safe and out of the elements. He found a few odd jobs, like sweeping the parking lot of a nearby business, and of course, collecting cans. He had regular routes mapped out for collecting cans; some by the day or week and some depending on the weather. He had his bus pass and made the rounds regularly. Many people around town knew or at least recognized him. Almost all of the sheriff's department knew him. Some even said they thought he looked like Charles Manson. But for the most part, he was harmless.
In the end when he passed away, we had a nice memorial service for him at the cemetery. Even though most of our family was already gone, my dad's cousin and business partner surprised me by coming. I was touched to the point of tears. For all the idiosyncrasies, challenges, frustrations, and heartaches that were Dave, this respected businessman and loyal family member still came to join us in honoring Dave's memory.
It was a blessing. And even though I don't know if Dave ever fully understood the gospel (even though I tried with all my heart to explain it to him), I have to trust that God knew his heart and that he is in good hands.
Blessings.
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