Ever have to re-kill the dead?

[Ferd]

Ever have to re-kill the dead?

Last night something triggered a memory and all the sudden that bitter gall of anger rose up in my heart.
It’s been years since I even thought about this fellow whom I actually have never met. I dealt with that anger a long time ago but there it was again. Right at bed time, and there I was dealing with something I considered under the blood.

Ricky was one of my hero’s. I say was because Ricky has passed from this life.
He was my first cousin. Fresh out of high school he took a job as a school teacher and girl’s basketball coach in a small town in Louisiana and promptly took a team that couldn’t manage a winning record to the state champion ship. He was Rookie coach of the year in the state.

As time progressed he won several state titles, became head coach for the girls team in DeRidder La. Then principle of the high school and was being groomed to become the superintendent of the school district. He was also the pastor of a Baptist church.

In my generation of the family, Rickey was the undisputed leader. He was about 8 years older than me, and as kids, when all of us were together, Rickey was the leader. We all traipsed after him. We did what he wanted to do.

His life was a difficult road. His father died in 1970 from cancer when he was about 9 or so. He went on to be a star basket ball player, and eventually earned a PhD in education, along with the other accomplishments listed.

What we didn’t know was that he suffered from depression. Anyway something happened and some funds from a band booster club was deposited into the wrong account. The total was $400. The School district CPA caught the mistake and called Rickey and they got it all straightened out.

Well someone with an ax to grind called the Lake Charles Press and a reporter started looking into things. What he found was exactly what I have recounted but the way he wrote the story in the paper, he made my cousin look like a thief. It just happened that this coincided with a bout of depression. Rickey took is own life.

Did I tell you that loved my cousin? He was a childhood hero. But I had a fellow to blame. This reporter could have done the right thing and either printed without sensationalism the truth, or could have simply said there was no story. I really wanted to get my hands on that fellow. I don’t mind telling you that it took some serious prayer and soul searching to get it out of my heart. But I did…. Until last night.

I found myself sitting in a dark living room, computer off, everyone else in bed, and me full of anger. Need to ask my mom what that guys name is. Wonder if he still works at the LC Press? The mind will take a fellow down dark ally ways. Then there was this little voice “old things are passed away aren’t they?” “I thought the old man was buried?”

I’m sorry Lord. I sure am letting this dead and buried bitterness out of the grave aren’t I? I don’t want to ever be bitter. I don’t ever want to carry something like that in my soul. Nothing is worth having a root of bitterness wrap its ugly arms around my heart get between you and I. forgive me. I FORGIVE HIM.