Dylan died in February and I just found out yesterday. I was out of the Facebook loop and finally wondered how he was doing with someone who knew. He apparently died from a bad batch of heroin.
I loved Dylan. He was my brother in Christ who struggled with faith. He worked on our new counseling offices with Ben, Dan, Basim and the others. He wandered off the job and never came back. I am so sad about that, I feel compelled to write.
I celebrate all the friends who have stayed clean or sober. I delight in the NA group that meets in our building on South Broad and how they are working out life. But I am also haunted by those who did not make it: Richard who lived with us for a while a long time ago, Kirk who just died last year. Their struggle makes me sad.
Ben told me yesterday that only God could have started him on his way to five years sober. And God did, like a gift he had to receive and keep. So I am praying that more and more people receive that gift.
I believe I will see Dylan in the age to come. I woke up this morning imagining him walking out of from under the trestle by the zoo, smiling like he did, honing in on some feeling or thought like he was prone to do, laughing, building something, free. I am glad Jesus is with him and with me in my sadness.