The day Johnny died was a very long day.  Both of us were extremely exhausted and our emotions taxed.  Of course neither of us had slept much that week with Johnny being so ill and we had now been up about 40 hours.

We spent a lot of time explaining Johnny’s death to the other five, mentally challenged foster people who had become Johnny’s family.  They, like us, were all very sad and required much comforting before settling down for the night.  We shared our tears, our pain, and our grief as we tried to adjust to the fact that Johnny would not be coming back home.  We were amazed to realize that they had developed parenting-like attitudes towards Johnny.

We had finally gotten everyone settled and tucked into bed around 11 p.m. and was just getting ready for bed ourselves, when the doorbell rang.  We looked at each other and wondered who would be at our door at this hour.  Jack went to find out and was gone for a good while before he called for me to get dressed and join him upstairs.

I was shocked to see two State Police Officers sitting at my dining room table.  I was quickly informed that they were there to question us about Johnny’s death.  I told them what I knew, and soon their questions turned to insinuations.  I couldn’t believe that they had the nerve to come into our home on the very same day of Johnny’s death and insinuate that we had been a part of it.  They suggested that we caused head injuries because records indicated bruising on the back of Johnny’s head.  We explained to them how the hospital kept him in a metal cage and becoming frustrated and confused he would bang his head against the bars for attention.  After talking further with us, they suggested that we overdosed him with morphine because we felt sorry for him and couldn’t stand to watch him suffer.   

I was so insulted and hurt.  How could anyone think that we would deliberately harm Johnny?!  I couldn’t hold the tears at bay any longer.  Jack had finally had enough and told them to leave our home immediately and not return until they had evidence of the things they were insinuating.  It seemed just when I thought the tears had stopped and we could rest, they sprung forth like a well again. 

My emotions ran wild between anger at their insinuations, and fear that they might actually try to make a case out of their lies.  If, for some unknown reason they were able to make a case of these lies, we could possibly loose our other folks, along with our Foster Home License and outstanding reputation.  Needless to say, neither of us rested much for the next couple of nights.

The next afternoon, we talked to our doctor friend who and been a part of Johnny’s health care team.  He could not believe what had happened and offered to find anything he could from the Medical Director and have him call us as soon as possible with his autopsy report. 

We nervously awaited news. The following afternoon, we received a call from the doctor who performed the autopsy on Johnny.  He was full of praise for how well Johnny had been cared for, from inside his ears, under his nails and all the hidden areas that normally get neglected when one is in a foster home.  He did not find any other bruises or marks on Johnny that indicated abuse or neglect on our part, nor did he find that he had been given too much morphine.  He reported to us that he could tell how much Johnny was loved by how well he had been cared for.  His words brought such peace and comfort.  Now we could rest. 

Someone once said that Jesus is a “way maker”.  When there seems to be NO way, He will MAKE a way.  Through this experience, I have learned that even when I am overwhelmed and burdened more than I think I can humanly bear, God will make a way for me to experience His peace, for it is through my weakness that He is strong. 

Jesus says, “Come unto me, all ye who are burdened and heavy laden and I will give you rest”.  I know from experience that I can believe those words.  I praise God that He answered our prayers and justified our love for Johnny, even in his death.

 

 

 

THE END