Prologue
not an ending… A Beginning!
He was my boy… my pride and my joy! He was and is a mysterious, wonderful, inexplicable equation in my life. He was in many ways my entire life, my very reason for living and the reason I still live. But yet, he never really took anything away from the others I love! It seemed the more that I gave to him; the more I had to share with others. He saved my life and touched the lives of so many others in his own very short time on this earth. He had a fleeting place in this dimension of creation, one that I believe he struggled to understand. Now, we who knew him and loved him in this place, struggle to understand and make meaning of the mystery of the transformed nature of his place. You see, he is no longer physically with us in his place on earth, but in so many miraculous and inspiring ways, he is revealing and sharing the place that Our Heavenly Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, had prepared for him for eternity. We, who knew and loved him on earth are assured and comforted that he is in the place that God would have him to be, and it is good, so very good!!
We are reminded of this by the comfort that Jesus offers to all his disciples in John 14:2 – “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
In the days following his tragic death, my boy, my pride and my joy and our Heavenly Father blessed me again with the privilege of sharing the story of my son, Douglas Arthur Kwiatkowski, and the story of His Son, the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ, together. We begin this good work and ministry together with Jesus’ sweet and simple promise: God has a Place For You too!! No matter what your struggles, no matter what you situation, no matter what mistakes or sins that may have littered your past, or what fears may obscuring your future… God has a place for you in His creation here on earth, and Jesus is preparing a place for you in His Father’s house for eternity. By His love and grace we offer Doug’s Memorial Foundation “A Place For You” to help find the Way to your place!
Godspeed!
All the glory be to God!!
Chapter One
Hi! I’m the Dad. You know… the guy who is mostly wrong!!
I can’t imagine many fathers who have raised their children through their “tumultuous teens” that couldn’t identify with that introduction at least once in awhile! I actually seem to remember feeling that way from time to time, as early as the “terrible twos”!! Nope…it really began while trying to install the car seat for Doug’s first car ride home from the hospital in a manner meeting with his mother’s standards for his safety! Well, you get the idea… right?
Aside from the playful showing off of the scars to my “Daddy Ego”, I offer this introduction with sincerity, because it aptly describes both my earthly relationship with Doug and our new mission together, on a number of levels. It also should keep straight in reader’s mind (and my own for that manner) that I am not offering any expert advice in these reflections that follow. Although my professional training and position might suggest that I could, this retrospect journey has made me realize that I have, indeed, been more wrong than right in my assumptions and actions in raising my own children! That being said, I have little business trying to impose my “expertise” on anyone else in regard to their most precious of relationships, that of parent to their children! Rather, I hope to honestly share more of my mistakes than my victories, not to proclaim any wisdom of my own, as a father, but that of our Heavenly Father, who finds opportunity to exercise His wisdom, His grace, and His power through our weaknesses! Through this accounting of my relationship with my beloved son, Douglas, I hope to provide a fitting witness as to how God lead the both of us through my many weaknesses, false assumptions, and out-and-out blunders to the place that He has always had prepared for us!
Most of these are not so easily recognized as out and out blunders, however! Rather, they are more fittingly described as near-misses or half-truths…examples of being in the right church, but the wrong pew! This seems especially true for the two guiding principles for my relationship with Doug, that now, in their “wrong-ness”, provide the inspiration and motivation for this writing! The “right church” portion of these ideas seems fitting as both of these notions came to me in almost miraculous circumstances as seemingly straight-forward directions from God! However, I would end up in the wrong pew through trying to put my own “spin” on that guidance to suit my goals or preferences!
The first of these half-truths was my idea that Doug was a gift from God to save my life
(probably true), and therefore (here’s where trouble starts); it was my responsibility to make Doug a better man than myself, in repayment for my second chance at life! The second of these followed that since Doug was my reason for still being alive (probably true) that I couldn’t and shouldn’t live without him! It is this last portion that God is revealing to me as so wrong!!!! God’s gift continues in the revealing of Doug’s place in His creation and my life day by day as I go on in this world physically separate from Doug, for the time-being, but not spiritually! I have come to realize that it was NOT my place to make Doug a better man than I, but it WAS and IS Doug’s place to make a better man of me!! Re-visiting how I was wrong and how God makes it right has been a great
place for me to start! I will be sharing some of these with you as our story unfolds. Hold on… much more to follow!
Chapter Two
A Blessing or a Curse…?
“My name is Dave and I’m an alcoholic!” I have undoubtedly introduced myself with just these words hundreds of times over the past two decades, but this is the first time to the general public. The previous greetings have almost always been to a very special group of friends who wish to remain anonymous, but who have been vital in saving and enriching my life over those years. I offer this introduction now because it also is so very central to the place that Doug has had in my life. This has been for me, both an inspiring and a troubling aspect of our relationship! It is, again, an example of that “close, but no cigar! or “right church, wrong pew” kind of thinking that I imposed on our relationship!
One of the troubling aspects of this is that alcoholism is one of those things that my beloved son and I have shared. Don’t you just hate it when…? (I will have a whole chapter of these observations later)… of all the things that our kids could inherit from us, it is always the bad stuff that they do!? Or maybe it just the bad stuff, or more accurately, the more challenging stuff… the stuff we are not so proud of… that we notice in our kids the most! And perhaps as in my case, even obsessively so!?! Or at least this is what I have come to see as the case with Doug and me.
Actually, Doug and I shared many similar gifts and challenges in our lives, and often it could be confusing to tell which was which. This was our shared struggle! Hence, as the title of this chapter suggests, both Doug and I found great difficulty in recognizing our blessings as blessings, which served to be our curse!
Confused yet? Let me explain. Maybe I can make it worse!
My life has hardly been a difficult or a troubled one, even in light of my alcoholism. For as long as I can remember, things have come pretty easily to me. They tell me I was a cute and precocious child, who was a pampered mascot for the patrons of my family’s neighborhood tavern business. I have been truly blest with loving, older, mature and fairly financially stable parents. As the youngest of the five children of those wonderful parents, I was denied neither their loving attention nor many material advantages that were not possible for my older siblings. I learned easily in school and made and kept friends effortlessly, both young and old. I was a fairly decent athlete with even more gifted older brothers, who taught me many of the skills and little “tricks” to athletic performance that gave me an unearned advantage in many a competition. In general, my young life was easy and fruitful, and unfortunately, largely unappreciated by me!
These many blessings, left unappreciated, began to feel more like a curse as I got older and life became more complicated and challenging. As I faced the normal challenges of adolescence and young adulthood, I frequently found myself quite easily frustrated when things wouldn’t just fall into place as I was accustomed. Also, as I stepped further from the pampered and protected world of my youth, I began to recognize how others worked far harder than I for their preferred place in life. As I continued to discount my blessings, I began to consider myself to be a phony and an imposter, undeserving of the success that came so easily to me. At the same time, I began to fear all failures for their potential to expose me as the imposter I knew myself to be. Suspicious of my success and afraid of failure, I found myself constantly conflicted. Can you guess how I came to cope with that inner conflict? Yes… I drank!
In alcohol I found an instant mediator for my warring selves. It quieted my fears and gave me a sense of invulnerability and superiority worthy of my successes. It gave me a release from my anxieties and social lubrication for my increased popularity and continued success. But as I found more fun, companionship and success in social drinking, I grew to feel more insecure and guilty inwardly when sober. So I drank more, only to feel more guilty and insecure! So I drank some more, now mostly in solitude, but I couldn’t hide from my own self-criticism, so more drinking and hiding and now lying were necessary! And with the lies now comes the awful pressure and anxiety to keep track of multiple realities to maintain my successful image. So more and more and more drinking…! Are you beginning to see the pattern here?
Well, even in my weaknesses I was blessed! Although emotionally and increasingly physically ill, I never had to face the common tragedies or indignities that many alcoholics have found on their way to bottom in order to bounce back up to recovery. I never had even one drunk driving citation, although I deserved hundreds, and never hurt or killed anyone or even wrecked a vehicle through my drinking binges. I never lost a job or faced financial lack, or lost the love of my wife or family, although I know I caused them great worry and strife for my well-being. Yet I drank some more! And then, the first of the miracles, as I have come see them, occurred as my four year old son saved my life, when no one else could!
A Blessing or Curse – Part 2
Now how can a wide-eyed, on-the-go four year-old little boy with a smile that could charm the spots off a leopard save a thirty year old spoiled, ungrateful and almost constantly inebriated ego-maniac in denial up to his eyebrows? Well, it would take some kind of miracle, wouldn’t you think!? And, you would be right! But that miracle came in disguise, dressed in seeming coincidence, just as so many others that have occurred in our lives together, Doug and mine.
This one in particular began in what may be thought of as a fairly ordinary or at least explainable set of events, but culminated in a “WOW! Now that was awesome…crazy awesome” conclusion! These events and their benefit to me, taken all together, were so inspiring and empowering, but yet so frightening and puzzling, that I never had the courage to share it with anyone but Doug himself, until after he died! Since that time I felt I must share them with all of you because I have come to understand that it is our place, Doug’s and mine, to do so! That being said, let me begin to try to explain the sequence of these somewhat ordinary, yet quite extraordinary events as they wove together to provide for my salvation, both of body and soul!
It all began with a dream… well, more accurately… it really it all began with me pickling my brain over a period of several years to the point that I was unable to do most of the ordinary activities in life sober, and most importantly here, to sleep! Over that period of time, I found myself wrestling with bouts of both insomnia and nightmares that gave me yet another reason to drink… to fall asleep and hopefully to stay asleep. In the last months of this madness, it would be much more accurate to describe the result as “passing out” rather than sleep. Yet, with increasing regularity, the nightmares would return and a particularly frightening one repeated, again and again.
Actually this vision, as I have come to regard it grew more vivid and frightening over a period of several months. It originated in the repetition of various depictions of a fairly pleasant and reassuring epic theme of the struggle between good and evil. These appeared early on in various scenarios worthy of the big silver screen, playing out as scenes from movies- sometimes featuring cops and robbers, sometimes cowboys and rustlers, or G.I Joe’s battling to hold a village from ruthless Nazi’s. In each case, however, something of great value was being protected by the “good guys” while the “bad guys” attacked ferociously, but in vain to steal it away. According to the classic script, the good guys always prevailed in the end.
However, change soon began in several important ways. First, the genre began to be more exclusively battles of antiquity and most often with recognizable biblical themes. Second, I gradually began to identify myself less as a passive observer and more as a participant in the struggles, initially as a combatant for the side of good and finally as the prize to be won! Also, as time went on the triumph of good over evil became less clear and even uncertain in many cases! Finally, the awful and terrifying realization struck one night that the battles were between Christ and Satan, and the prize was the possession of my soul!! What was even more horrifying was as my Savior- hero began to retreat in a
diminishing circle of light, I could sense an icy, dark and foreboding presence envelope me, causing me to awake in a start, heart pounding and gasping for breath!
Now, you would think that such a revelation would scare a sane man sober, and perhaps it would. But, in my case it only caused me to drink more and this time to resort to drinking in the middle of the night to calm my fears and allow me to slip back into an alcoholic coma, free of nightmares, but also devoid of any real rest or renewal of body and soul.
Needless to say, as these dreams became more vivid and foreboding, I began to fear many things related to normal sleep, especially the dark and quiet, both of which seemed to allow my mind to race while lying in bed, which I was certain brought about the nightmares. I now understand that my true fear was not of the nightmares themselves, but rather the realization their true meaning to my life, which haunted me in the stillness and dark of the night. This created the need for a new habit or coping mechanism, that of having to watch TV in bed, which was quite annoying to my lovely wife. This I suppose, paled next to the redoubling of my old stand-by, as I now drank myself into a stupor most every night, which terrified her!!.
My night-terrors would abate for awhile, given this new strategy for mental health, but my physical health, which was slipping to begin with, promised to avalanche with the around the clock drinking that I was now trapped in. Beside my sleep problems, I was having increasing difficulty eating, finding many of my favorite foods, difficult to digest and often to keep down. Between the effects of drinking on my stomach and other organs, chain-smoking three packs of cigarettes a day made for a hacking cough that often caused me to gag and get the heaves, dry and otherwise.
This became a particular problem as I awoke in the morning! Now, my first thought for the day most frequently was “How can I get to a glass of water or to the bathroom stool as quickly and quietly as possible before I cough, choke and heave. The “quietly as possible” was, of course, for the benefit of my wife and small children, Doug at four and Mary at two, who certainly must not know that I am sick or they might worry!!
Are you sensing my command of reality at this juncture!?
Well this went on for some time, an eternity it seemed, but actually about month or so, before a new and dramatic ending played out once and for all one night in my dream-battle! In this single and last performance of this tragic drama came finally a ray of hope! In this episode, the diminishing circle of light seemed to skip or reflect to a point behind the icy darkness that crept to overcome me! Slowly and steadily it increased in size and in clarity, seemingly drawing me to itself. However it did not grow proportionately brighter, but seemed to warmly glow and become recognizable as a face, soft, round and slightly flushed. Now imagine the rush of confusing and conflicting emotions as strained to make
it out, certain that I had just died and was about to gaze upon my Lord and Savior’s glorious countenance! Just as suddenly, my heart fell into fear and confusion as I did recognize the beautiful, but troubled and pleadingly trusting face of my little boy!
It appeared to be
and now nearer to the danger, between the Devil and myself. As I called for Doug to get behind me, his face instead drew away and above the beast, pulling me in toward the Light I knew to be our Savior and Hero. But soon both Doug and the Light accelerated away and seemed to merge, leaving me to fall with a thump into consciousness in my own bed. But this time, it wasn’t panic that I felt, but a sense of resignation and sadness that I would have to make changes if not for the protection of my own life and soul, then for Doug’s! Instead of getting up to drink, I rolled over and wept until I drifted into dreamless sleep.
Now wouldn’t it make perfect sense and a better story if I found continuous sobriety from that moment on! However, the life of an alcoholic seldom makes sense to anyone but themselves, and perfect often comes only in the form of a martini. Actually this began the phase in my drinking career which served as the most miserable and the most necessary in order to push me to find my sobriety! And Doug’s miraculous participation had only just begun!
I did try to stay sober the next day but found that the physical nature of my disease had now surpassed the mental insanity in compelling me to drink. I succumbed to the cold sweats and shaking limbs no later than 2:30 in the afternoon. I remember this time specifically, because I had convinced myself that if I could make it to 4:30, my drinking problem was probably not that bad, and perhaps some controlled drinking would be sufficient in order to turn my fate and that of my family around! Yeah…. that’s the ticket!! Who says I am not in control of our life!
Well, perhaps you are beginning to sense the insanity that alcohol can provide the alcoholic in order to preserve its grip on body and soul! And as you can see, it will take more than one miraculous event to shake that grip! Thankfully, as alcohol will provide all the suffering an alcoholic needs to surrender, so our God will provide as many miracles as it take to save a wretch like me from that self-crafted Hell!
The next occurred after several more weeks of the self-defeated, round-the-clock-just- to- feel- normal drinking that had become my everyday existence. But the illness that brought attention to my need to recover this time was not my own, but my family’s, as the flu bug took up residence in our house, first with my wife, then with my little girl and finally with Doug. Oddly, I seldom became ill when such maladies passed through, possibly because I was a walking bottle of antiseptic, perhaps because no self-respecting germ would chose to live in my body, but probably because God knew I had enough to handle without it! In this case it left me to be the primary care-giver for my ailing family for a few days while Mommy has a chance to recover. On Doug’s second day of the chills, fever and vomiting, he found a little comfort cuddled on my lap as I watched TV while Mary and Mommy slept in our bed. As I rose to carry Doug off to his bed, he stirred to grogginess and moaned slightly as laid him down. At once his eyes came wide open and he exclaimed “Daddy, I hate to throw up! How can you throw up everyday?”
Now, as the house of cards that made up my self-deception tumbled around me, a hopeful revelation also dawned! Just as Doug spoke these words, the look upon his face became eerily recognizable! It was the same strained, but trusting countenance that appeared in my dream! It wasn’t just like that expression… it was the very same expression that I had seen in the dream more than a month ago, and never before! It was how Doug was to pull me from the icy grip of the Hell’s monarch to the salvation the Lord had prepared for me! But, just as in my dream, I failed to take full hold of my tow to safety and fell with a thump… or at least my heart did… as I let the great Deceiver and his best bounty-hunter,
Addiction, shoot me down with denial and rationalization. Instead of falling to my knees in awe-struck surrender as most would, I shook it off as coincidence (Satan’s favorite miracle-buster) and focused instead on the guilt that was rising in me in volcanic proportion over the realization that Doug was not only aware of my disease, but was worried by it!
“Daddy, just coughs too much from smoking, Buddy! It’s not good to smoke, is it? Daddy will have to quit soon…and you should never smoke, O.K.!? But right now, you just go back to sleep and feel better! Maybe we’ll shoot some hoops tomorrow if you do!
“OK, Daddy. I love you!” he purred as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep in his earthly place, and I expect, on ahead of me toward the Light of Salvation in his heavenly place, as in my dream!
Now once again, it would only seem logical that a sane and intelligent man would be moved to change his life dramatically after such an experience! If not in fear and awe of the miracle that had been revealed, then certainly by the obligation borne of guilt to spare his only son any more worry or misguided identification for his “boozer father”!
But instead, I turned to yet another drink, to “calm my nerves” and “clear my head”
so I could “think this thing through” and “make it right”! Oh, my! Booze is such a smooth and efficient liar! It is fluent in the native language of the devil! And as my inner conflict now raged to all out war, the self-loathing and desire to die… no the need to die to save my son any more torture and from a destiny to grow into alcoholic himself, just like Dad!
You see, again my failure to recognize the blessing that the Lord was revealing to me, turned into a curse of a most self-destructive type! I was certain that my dream was not a divine promise, but an omen that my fate was sealed, but there was still time to save Doug, if I would let go and not bind him to Satan with me!
This began the “death spiral” phase of my drinking career. Afraid to live and afraid to die, I daily walked through a hell that only a “bottoming out” addict can comprehend. I really wasn’t so much afraid to die, as I resolved that would be the only way out of this hell, but I was afraid of how I would die and more importantly, how and by whom I would be found. It was this fear that kept me from the quick solution of a bullet or a noose, or even an overdose of pills, thinking of the short term terror it may cause my wife and children, as well as the long-term shame. So, as always, I looked to alcohol for the final relief as well, committing to drinking myself to death as quickly as possible.
As with most things in my life, when I set my mind to it, my plan moved steadily to completion. As summer turned to fall and leaves turned and tumbled, so did my health, both in mind and body. Although much of the world around me probably didn’t take notice (most of my acquaintances had seen me neither sober or noticeably inebriated for more than a year) I could barely function without a drink to stave off the tremors, the cold sweats, and the panic attacks that frequented any dip in my blood alcohol level. I could eat only bland or sugary foods and would still vomit two or three times a day. Straight, cheap vodka served as my mouthwash, elixir, tranquilizer, and anesthesia in my daily regiment to death.
Thankfully, my wife of ten years was taking notice! And, along with her growing concerns, her plans to intervene took shape, as well. Aside from being the wife of a flaming alcoholic, Theresa was also an adult child of an alcoholic. Her experience with the disease taught her not only how to survive, but also how to find recovery for both herself and eventually, God willing, for her hapless husband. Three days before my thirty-first birthday, Theresa orchestrated a surprise party of the most loving and giving nature- a family intervention.
She quietly but efficiently brought together my parents and brothers and sisters, as well as two experienced members of the anonymous fellowship, that means so much to me now, to tell me how much my suffering was felt and borne by them as well. However, my unwillingness or inability to imagine my life without alcohol, as well as my still sharp ability to intellectualize and moralize on the basis of my right to self-determine, soon had their initial hopes waning. As my stubbornness and arrogance overshadowed my surprise and initial panic, I soon dismissed the recovering alcoholics, who only wished to share their experiences, strength and hope with me. Instead, I made it quite clear that I preferred to deal privately this “family matter”, since I was after all, a trained and experience mental health professional! Thankfully, as my family sullenly surrendered to the futility of their efforts, Theresa mounted one last plea…! And what doozy it was!
As I sat alone on the coach in my parents living room, half gloating over the exasperation being expressed by my siblings in the kitchen just beyond the wall, and half examining my long lists of rationalizations according to their effectiveness for any oncoming rounds in a renewed assault, Theresa came in quietly and sat across from me on the coffee table. As I fashioned a scowl and considered a first strike defense against her, she gently pushed my words back behind my lips with her a single outstretched finger and an almost inaudible, ssshhh…! As tears well in her eyes, she grabbed a quick, shallow breath and almost whispered the second most soul-wrenching expression I have ever heard pass her lips- “David… I can’t live like this anymore!”
Her voice trailed off so that it almost seemed a last breath affirmation of her fate rather than a plea for action from me. It was clear in that split second that this was not a threat or an ultimatum, but a simple surrender to the truth as she knew it!
Having no immediate response and feeling my heart melt from her earnest sorrow, it would be only reasonable for me to surrender at this point as well! But again, the alcoholic mind is not reasonable and instead I looked away and steeled myself for the counterclaim… “You don’t have to… leave if you must!”
However, as I turned to again face my suffering wife in the eye to deliver …. I found myself not meeting the tearful, defeated eyes of my mate, but instead the wide-eyed trusting glow of my little boy in distress! It was the same round faced visage of innocence and beauty that drew me beyond Satan’s grip in my dream and that had solicited my wisdom on vomiting in his sick-bed!!! Again, my little hero stood between me and desolation and ruin, keeping me from making the biggest misstep of my life by stealing the breath that would voice the contemptible insult! Instead, I gasped and shook my head hopefully to clear the hallucination before my eyes, but not to be! Perhaps, three is the charm or I was the third on the match, but just like that… as if a switch flipped somewhere inside my head… I surrendered! I slipped to me knees in front on my loving wife, hugged her to me and whispered… “Let’s go! Where are you going to take me?”
And so began my journey into sobriety. A journey I thankfully am still exploring and enjoying, thanks to my Savior and his little angel…my pride and my joy… my little
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