Hudson vs. California was dismissed with prejudice. My legal rights had been determined and lost, and the case could not be brought to action again. An appeal was possible, but that process took a couple of weeks just to schedule on the already distended dockets of every potential judge. Aaron's court ordered termination date was slated for tomorrow.
I consider myself a strong man. Certainly toughened by three and a half years in a Supermax Prison. But that night, I clutched a photo album with all Aaron's pictures from birth until the last one we took of him, to my chest and cried myself to sleep at his bedside.
Chapter One Hundred and Eight
It's like running a marathon, blisters bursting, skin peeling, only to arrive at the end and learn that you've been on the wrong track altogether. I'm sitting by Aaron's bed holding his hand, the warmth of which makes this even more difficult to accept. My tears moisten his frail hand.
I don't want to let go.
But I must. Jim O'Brien and another deputy are posted outside with the unenviable task of making sure that the law is upheld.
"I'll be right outside," Rachel says, bending down to kiss me.
They're doing it by the clock mounted on the wall. When the minute hand reaches the twelve, it will be over. My son will stop breathing.
"My precious boy," I whisper, a lump lodges in my throat. "Daddy did everything he could to fight for you." You've got a purpose, don't You, God? I suck in an anguished breath through my teeth. Don't You?
Aaron's chest rises and falls. He hears me, I know he does, and it twists like a jagged blade in my heart. Sinking my face in his hands, I am haunted by the images of my child, his first single-toothed smile, learning to walk, the way his big, green eyes transform into tiny slits whenever he laughs. The first time he looked at me and with purpose, said, "Da-da." Flying in my arms like an airplane down the hallway.
"You know I love you, Aaron." I am overcome with grief and anger and desperation and too many indescribable feelings. A natural death would be difficult enough. But to willingly and knowingly deprive my son of breath? It's like standing by and watching someone kill him, and not doing a thing about it. Goes against everything that makes me a father, a human being.
I want to curl up into a corner and disappear. I want to smash something—destroy it and myself in the process. I want to run out into the middle of the freeway, dragging the whole accursed court and state legislature with me.
God! You said it was going to be fine! What kind of sick, cruel joke is this?
I'm cursing myself.
Did Abraham feel this way when he was commanded to take his beloved son Isaac up the mountain and sacrifice him? And is this how Mary felt when Jesus breathed his last breath on the cross? I am the resurrection, and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. Hold on to that. Claim it.
Taking long, deep breaths, I calm myself. I don't want to say good-bye in this condition. I've got to be strong for him, reassuring. You've held on so long, Aaron.
Why, God? After all those miracles? Why this? I fall to my knees by his bed and wring the tears from my eyes. A hand alights upon my shoulder.
"Sam." Rachel touches my shoulder. I reach back and put my hand over hers and rise. "It's almost time."
"I know." I turn around and through the blur of my tears I see the backlit outline of the nurse standing by the door. Lieutenant O'Brien is standing in the doorway as well, holding his hat in both of his hands.
I nod.
Jim looks at me and nods back. Steps outside.
Pastor Dave comes in, says a quick prayer, committing Aaron into the bosom of the Almighty. Rachel is weeping. "Good-bye, sweetie." She kisses him on the head, touches his face tenderly and then turns to me burying her sobs into my chest.
The minute hand has reached twelve. The nurse looks to me with sympathy. She's done this before. So many times I suppose, she doesn't allow it to affect her professional demeanor.
Releasing Rachel, I move closer to my boy. Rachel's fingers hang on then reluctant to let go. I kneel by Aaron's side and run my hand over his forehead, through his cornsilk hair. Never have I been so aware of the steady hissing emanating from the ventilator. Breathing for him. Giving him life. Albeit artificial. Isn't that Your job, Lord?
"Aaron." My voice breaks. "It's time to go now."
His chest rises and falls.
I take his hand, squeeze it twice. Love-you.
His fingers twitch.
All those nights he fought not to go to bed. Just one more story, Daddy. Just one more, please? What I wouldn't give now. "It's time to go, buddy. It's okay."
Rachel sobs softly.
"Go ahead, son. You go on and fly, now. All the way into the sky, past the moon and into the heavens. To infinity—" my words are arrested by a sharp sob. "They're waiting for you." Not even trying to hold back the tears, I regard the nurse. We're ready. "Aaron, Daddy loves you so much."
The nurse reaches behind the ventilator.
She clicks the machine off. I gasp.
I won't let go of Aaron's hand until the very end. Maybe not even then. His chest rises and falls. A deep and final breath.
Then a long and peaceful sigh.
"Good-bye," I whisper, pressing my lips to his hand.
The room has become a vacuum. In tears, Rachel leaves the room with Pastor Dave and the nurse. And though the silence is deafening, my soul reverberates with Aaron's laughter, Jenn's voice calling us to dinner, Bethie humming passages from a Mozart concerto. It doesn't seem possible that I could miss them any more than I have, heretofore. But now, I realize just how utterly profound and dark this pit is.
I kiss Aaron's head one last time, reluctant to go.
Sounds of the past fade.
His hand begins to slip.
All the miraculous things I've experienced are insignificant now, even as I now hear that divine voice which I haven't heard for so long. One last time, He says, It's going to be fine. For the first time in months, an undeniable vision appears before me.
Golden light spilled across a wide meadow more lush, more verdant than anything this side of existence. Where is this place?
I'd never before beheld such breathtaking landscapes, took in such sweet air, my bare feet never alighted upon so silken a floor. No terrestrial bird ever sang so gloriously. And yet, it all felt as familiar as a song from my youth.
In the distance, I saw them. Dear Lord, it's them!
Jenn and Bethie waded across a placid river and onto the shore. Their faces shone. Their eyes, those beautiful green eyes, brightened. They need not speak, I heard their souls.
Daddy, Bethie said. I can't wait till we're together again. Her hand extended out over the water's edge. I reached out, and though we could not touch, I sensed her warmth.
I love you so much, Babygirl.
Jenn's warm presence enveloped me. Sam, she said, Don't grieve. You are loved with an eternal love. Time will pass like the blink of an eye, when you finally come home.
I'll always love you, Jenn.
Go on, then. Live, love, and serve. When you cross the river, in just a little while, meet us at the gate.
I will, Love. I will.
Suddenly, there came a tug on my hand. Aaron! He was looking up and smiling at me, completely whole. His face shone with heavenly brilliance. I bent down and wrapped my arms around him.
My boy! My sweet boy!
Daddy.
Oh, that angelic voice. How I'd longed to hear him say, Daddy. I held on to him, wanting never to let go.
He let me stay, Daddy. For as long as you needed me to.
I know, Aaron. I know. At last, I understood. My sorrow was replaced with pure joy.
You're going to be fine, Daddy.
His tiny form became pure light and glided across the river, over to his mother and sister and once again, he appeared as a little boy. Jenn picked him up, kissed him. The three of them began to glow with unearthly splendor.
One last time, Jenn
said, "At the gate, Love. We'll be waiting."
And they were gone.
Or perhaps it is I that have left.
Lying there, he looks as if he's fallen asleep. Peace beyond all understanding fills my soul. All along, I wanted to be there for my son, when instead, God let Aaron stay for me, instilling within me a reason to fight, a reason to live.
For the rest of my years, be they thirty, forty, or even fifty more, I will be free. And then, I will see Aaron again, and Jenn and Bethie. And a lifetime will be as the distant memory of a dream, when we are reunited.
For all eternity.
Acknowledgements
This book would not be possible without the help of countless people whose support, insight and encouragement brought the characters and story to life:
Drs. Stephen and Vivien Tseng, David DeLee, Chris Hagan, Michael Hiebert, Adrian Phoenix, Pastor Luke Chen, Dr. Glen Scorgie, Lori Moss, Anthony Davis, William and Ckristina Sutjiadi, Chris and Carol Essex, Christy and Tom Giangreco, Pastors Jerry and Tami McKinney, Steve Fitzpatrick, Susan Wingate, Michael Bellomo, and all the wonderful people in The City Church San Diego, and many others who helped me and cheered me on.
A special thanks to Dean W. Smith who believed in my writing enough to buy my first professional fiction works and invite me into the august gathering of minds with Kristine Kathryn Rusch and theentire Oregon Writers Network. I would not be a writer if it were not for you all.
I would also like to honor my father Rev. Paul F. Tseng, who taught by example to dream beyond what you can see, and to live by faith. Also, my late mother Anna, whose life was a testimony of grace and unconditional love.
Thanks also to my awesome children for putting up with a busy dad, and for showing me just how much I can love another person. You will never know how much that helped me write this book from the bottom of my heart.
Finally, I wish to thank my beautiful wife Katie, for being my friend, my lover, and my constant source of emotional support as well as the inspiration for all my work. You've put up with endless hours of my talking about writing books, so I dedicate this and all my coming books to you, my love.
A Note From the Author
Thank you for taking the time to read BEYOND JUSTICE, a very personal work for me. If you were in any way touched by the story, challenged by the themes, or even changed by the message, I would love to hear from you. Please connect with me via the links at the end of this note.
The themes of grace and forgiveness are very important in this book, and while you or I will likely never have to face what Sam Hudson did, we can still benefit from being released from a prison of resentment or bitterness.
Someone once said, unforgiveness is like drinking poison and hoping the other guy dies. I believe that when we don’t forgive, we are shackled and put in an emotional, even spiritual prison of solitary confinement. So I want to challenge you today, if there is anyone whom you have not forgiven yet (it could even be yourself), purpose in your heart to do so.
If you need help with it, please talk to someone who can help, like a pastor, a counselor, even a trusted friend. The old adage says, “To err is human, to forgive is divine.”
Sometimes we need help from that higher power to heal us, to release us from years of holding onto pain.
I also want to encourage you to share this book with anyone who might be interested in a story like this one, or who might benefit from the message. If BEYOND JUSTICE has been a meaningful reading experience, won’t you please share that with your friends or family?
Since the initial release of BEYOND JUSTICE, readers have been contacting me with testimonies of what the book has meant to them, or how it has helped their friends or relatives. As you’ve taken all this time to read my story, I’d love to hear yours!
Please connect with me on facebook or my blog and leave a wall post.
You can reach me at:
http://joshua-graham.com
http://facebook.com/J0shuaGraham
http://twitter.com/J0shuaGraham
Thank you!
Joshua Graham
Table of Contents
PART I
PART II
PART III
BEYOND JUSTICE Page 35
