The Story I Want To Tell

I love to write and to tell stories.  There's one story out there that I'd love to tell.  I think it would be a good one.  Trouble is, I only know half of it.  Maybe one day I'll have the opportunity to learn the rest--I bet it will be a story to tell.

There's a man who lives in LaFayette, GA.  I've never met him.  Our stories crossed in 1983. 

It was a Friday morning and I was up early.  I had breakfast with my dad--three minute poached eggs, as I recall.  Dad told me that he had the title for the '65 Mustang in his briefcase.  He planned to stop at the DMV on the way to the office to register the car.  A tag and some insurance--I was that much closer to driving.

For most of the previous two years I had rebelled against the man, and he had wrung himself out trying to understand me.  Two months earlier, however, everything had changed.  There had been great healing in our relationship.  I came to realize that I loved my dad.  More, I realized that he loved me. 

Breakfast tasted especially good that Friday.  More than the meal, we shared the time together.  As he headed out the door I said, "Have a great day."  He said, "I'll see you tonight, buddy."

That Friday morning started out like any other at Linder Industrial Machinery in Miami, Florida.  Payday. 

As I've heard the story told, one man arrived to collect his last paycheck.  He had been fired earlier in the week.  His termination report said that he was let go because he had a bad temper and had demonstrated aggressive behavior towards fellow employees.  It shouldn't have surprised anyone, then, what happened when he came to get his check.   

Witnesses told police that he barred the door to the boss's office.  Everyone heard the commotion--crashes, shouts, cries for help.  Several men struggled to break through the barrier, my dad among them.  Chaos.  Somehow they managed to subdue the angry man.  A necktie bound his hands and feet until police could arrive.  My dad stepped outside to light a cigarette.  Witnesses say it fell from his lip as he collapsed.  The coroner's report itemized broken ribs and internal bleeding, but it was a heart-attack that took my father's life outside that office.

The police and the prosecuting attorney debated for several weeks whether to charge the angry man with murder.  In the end they chose to prosecute him for the assault on the boss, the coroner's conclusion that my dad's heart was ultimately responsible for his death and not this man's actions, the deciding factor.

This man and I, our stories crossed that August day.  I faced the rest of my life without my dad.  He, quite literally, received a new lease on life.

You know how it is these days with the internet.  I located him.  LaFayette, GA, I told you. 

I wrote him a letter in August of 2008.  In fact, I had it delivered overnight so that he received it at roughly the same hour of the morning, twenty-five years to the day.  I assured him that I'm not angry and that I don't hold him responsible.  Life--and death--happens.  I told him that I wanted to meet him.  I told him that I'd like to learn his side of the story.  I told him that I'd cherish the opportunity to hear what he had done with his twenty-five years, and to tell him what I'd done with mine.

He didn't call.  He didn't reply. 

The story I want to tell is our story.  What does the aftermath look like when two stories collide?  How do such collisions and the aftermath alter life's paths?

How's life in LaFayette?  Why haven't you replied?

Comments

[Shari]

I will always be sad that I never met my father-in-law. Thank you for keeping him alive with your wonderful stories. I miss him even though I never met him. BUT...I do feel like I know him. You've told me so much about him, that I find myself sharing stories about him even though we never met. Thank you for continuing his legacy. I love you!

[Mike]

I was sitting at my drawing board working on a project. I worked for my fiance, now my wife. SHe received a phone call that her dad had a herart attack at work. Who ever called would call back with news when there was more to share. A short time later, she answered the phone again. I'll never forget the look of horror on her face as she burst into tears and sank to her knees. She had just received the word that her dad had died from that incident. It was a very long ride to south Florida that night, she, her brother Dave and I as we headed to Pembroke Pines to help, console, mourn... and you tell the rest of the story Bro.

[Darin]

Thanks Shari and Mike for your comments. Different perspectives of 'the story' for sure. Thanks also to the couple of family members who have called or emailed--deciding to take that route rather than commenting. It's our story.

Join me in hoping this gentleman in LaFayette GA chimes in. He holds a side of the story that none of us know--and I'd love to bring all of these strands together.

Email me. Please. dshaw@ccnh.org

[Robin]

This is so heartbreaking. I hope and pray for your sake and the sake of your family that you do get the other side of the story.

[Mike Ilkenhons]

Sorry Bro... but there is so much more to tell about the effect of the event.... The note in your Dad's briefcase (I think) that pointed to his faith, Dave preaching his first funeral, Granny and here comment about the extent of Dave's Bible references, family coming together, lives turning in unpredictable directions... your Mom having to cope with the loss of her constant companion, a wedding with no father to give the bride away... a rebellious young man who now had to figure out life ( I think he did alright)... BUT even if the ex employee NEVER faces the reality and responds... it's okay... this story never was about him... it will always be about HIM and HIS mercy.

[Amanda]

I live in Lafayette, Ga. I to have been touched by heart attack. I just ran across your blog amd started reading to my suprise. I seen my town mentioned. I cant help but think God has a plan. If there is anything I can do please feel free to e-mail me.

[Darin @ Interactive Sermon]

Amanda, thanks for stopping by! It thrilled me to see a comment on this old post--I still haven't been able to reach this man. I suppose I'm not surprised as this would have had to have been a difficult part of his own life, and not one he'd want to revisit.

I imagine that one day I might find my way to LaFayette GA to see if I can look him up in person. Who knows?

Blessings to you and yours!
Darin