ricky roberts, 12/12/69-02/27/11

*This is one of the hardest things I've written in the recent past. Please bear with me while I struggle to get this out.*

A little more than six years ago, I met a man named Ricky Roberts. He came into my life and the lives of my family members as the new youth pastor for Lakewood Church (now known as Friend Church). Ricky joined our church with his then wife, Linda, and their two daughters Nikkie and Hope.

Ricky was one of the coolest people I had ever met. He was so full of life! He adored his wife, Linda, and he loved his two daughters with everything he had. He had a passion for the youth in our church and he was dedicated to all of us kids. It was one of the first times I had ever run into someone in the church who was open and honest about the screw ups he had done in the past. He was open about his "wild child" days as a youth himself. He was honest with us about his past drug and alcohol abuse. He was honest with us about turning his life around because he finally found something worth living for.

Ricky was an addict. He spoke of his Recovery and how God's love saved him. It was touching and moving. He was someone I found myself trusting. I came to love and respect him and his family. They are truly amazing people.

It was in May of 2004 that I found out about my Mom's former problem with drugs. I was shocked and stunned that my Mom had ever struggled with something like that, even as a kid. As I tried to process the information that I had found out, another shocking blow came down and rocked my world. Ricky had admitted to a relapse. He had resigned as youth pastor from Lakewood and was checking himself into rehab. I was stunned.

I remember being terrified at the implications. If Ricky, a strong man of God could relapse on this stuff, what would stop my Mom from doing the same thing? What if she already had? I sat on these fears, keeping them to myself for the duration of the summer. At the time I was ignorant about the disease of addiction. All I knew was that it was this big thing, this dark and terrible thing that I had never previously imagined could even touch my world, never mind come crashing down on it.

As the summer wore on, my fears increased as my Mom's behavior grew a little more erratic. I overheard phone calls talking about inpatient versus outpatient treatments, I heard my Mom crying and I knew deep in my gut that before too much longer I would hear the words "drug" and "problem" together again. My fears culminated into a real life nightmare one October night when my Mom sat all of us kids down and told us that she would be leaving the next day for rehab. She had a drug problem and she wanted to get better.

I'll spare the details of the following months, but it wasn't too much time later (after she got out of rehab, I'm pretty sure) that she shared this with me: The only reason she was able to have the strength to admit to her problem and check into rehab was because of Ricky. When she saw that he was strong enough to do it and that the church and his friends were still willing to stick around and support him, she knew that she could do the same.

It was Ricky who helped her understand that Recovery was possible, that the nightmare of addiction didn't have to follow her for the rest of her life. Ricky was the one who opened her eyes to alternate forms of therapy. She even said tonight that she's not sure where she would be right now if he hadn't opened her eyes like that.

The unfortunate reality of addiction is that relapses happen. My Mom relapsed a couple of times after she got out of rehab. It was a struggle for her, but she eventually got to a point where her real Recovery began. Ricky relapsed several times. I know that things got bad and we didn't hear alot from him for a long time. The last I heard, he was having health problems, but was still alive and out there somewhere. My heart was broken that such an awesome man was having such a hard time getting past something so dark. I wanted so desperately for him to get on a healthy path. I wanted it for him and for his family.

I don't know where Ricky was at today when he woke up. I don't know if he woke up in a haze of drugs and alcohol. I don't know if he woke up with the clarity that comes with sobriety. All I know is that he woke up today.

But he won't wake up tomorrow.

Ricky died today. He died of a massive heart attack. (That's what preliminary stories say.) I am feeling the loss as if it was a family member who had passed. I can't stop crying. I cry and then I'm in utter shock and then I cry and then I go into shock again. I hadn't spoken to or seen him in years but he still meant a great deal to me. His courage and his love for people changed my life. The acknowledgment of his own personal demons helped my family in more ways that I can think of at the moment.

I'm hurting as I think of the great man the world lost. I'm hurting as I think of all the things that he could have accomplished. But mostly I'm hurting because I can't even imagine the loss that his family is feeling right now. His daughters are only in high school and I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to suffer such a devastating loss at such a young age. My heart goes out to them as they try to process this tragic event.

I'm just in utter shock right now. I can't sleep. I can't turn my brain off right now. It's just too sad.

lindsayallison

Ricky Roberts, 12/12/69-02/27/11