This is my nephew Aaron. Today he would have been 22 years old. Instead of celebrating a birthday, we are reminded of his tragic death 3 1/2 years ago.
Aaron had a huffing addiction. He inhaled propane as a means of getting high. We did not know about this until he was brought to the emergency room, unconscious.
He was with some friends on his way to a self help group for teens. He was in the back seat huffing on propane. All of a sudden his body started seizing uncontrollably. The driver called 911, pulled the car off to the shoulder of the road, got Aaron out of the car and performed CPR. His friend did everything right.
Aaron was without oxygen for 10 minutes. His heart stopped. Aaron died. But wait. The paramedics restarted his heart and ambulanced him to the hospital.
When I arrived his whole family was there. The doctors weren't sure of Aaron's status other than his heart was beating. There was a lot of hope he was going to be okay. But that wasn't the case. When I went into the area, Aaron was lying there. I have the gift of intercessory prayer. I put my right hand on the top of his head and my left hand over his heart. I didn't sense any brain activity.
During the next 3 days Aaron started deteriorating and all kinds of tests were done. It was the conclusion of multiple doctors that Aaron's ventilator should be turned off. Aaron was blind, deaf, severely brain damaged, paralyzed completely and could not breathe without the assistance of a machine. In other words, Aaron as we'd known him was permanently gone.
One week earlier we were celebrating Easter. I shared the hope of Jesus with him as did his Dad, Stepmom, brother and sisters. You could see the wheels turning in his head. When we were alone in his hospital room, I felt the leading of the Holy Spirit to ask Aaron if he wanted Jesus to forgive his sins. A tear rolled down his right eye. I baptized him privately because I didn't want it to appear as a show.
Aaron's ventilator was turned off two days later and after 11 hours, Aaron's strong heart stopped beating. He took his last breath. There's nothing more sobering than hearing that machine ring out the tone of death.
Aaron died on April 16, 2010.
I cannot say, "Happy Birthday, Aaron!"
Ever again.
