jeremiah’s story
“You’re useless and you’ll never amount to anything!”
Sitting in the waiting room my thoughts are anxious. I’d gotten the call that Jeremiah had collapsed on the ice while playing hockey. The news that he had suffered a brain aneurysm and that survival was doubtful, left me numb. Would he pull through?
It was a miracle that one of the best brain surgeons in Canada happened to be available. Jeremiah was whisked straight into the operating room and all of us, friends, family and coworkers waited anxiously, knowing that Jeremiah was inside, fighting for his life. However, facing challenges is nothihng new to my husband. My eyes slowly closed, taking me back to his difficult upbringing. I hope he knows how proud I am of him.
Jeremiah is a husband, father and police officer. He has the ability to see the good in people. He has a special passion for troubled youth - I think I know why - he sees his younger self in their eyes. “You’re useless and will never amount to anything” those words rang in Jeremiah’s ears as he was expelled for fighting and bullying from yet another junior high school. He told me that in his heart he wanted to believe that those words were a lie, but a little voice in the back of his head kept saying “were they?”.
My understanding is that everyone has a story, and that there was a reason Jeremiah was overtaken by such anger, directed towards his peers. For me, it was normal to grow up in a home with parents who loved, nurtured and supported me. But normal for Jeremiah was a life of poverty, lack of care and a warped value system that left him with little hope for a purposeful future. When I hear how his mum was torn from her home as a young girl and thrust into residential schools, my thoughts go to our beautiful six month old daughter. How agonizing an experience that would be for her, and for us. In residential schools, his mum was taught that her language, culture and beliefs were wrong and of the devil. With so much pain inflected upon her, like many residential school survivors, she later walked a path of self hatred and addiction, often taking it out on her children.
Moving constantly, they frequently left their home with little more than their photographs, starting over again. Three or four families would live in a small house on the reserve. In one house, Jeremiah’s bedrooms was on the floor of a furnace room, where he and several cousins slept on the thin mats. Drugs were sold from the house, and as a nine year old, he rolled joints to help with the family business. His brother would beat him up just to keep him tough, a completely different relationship than I have with my brother.
Suicide, overdoses, addictions and accidents took a heavy toll on those around him. The casualties tore at his heart, leaving him feeling shrouded by death. Instructed by the idea that men don’t cry, he internalized his pain even as his anger continued to build. Family role models were hard to come by, but his grandfather who had died ten years before Jeremiah was born, was held in high regard. As an elder his grandfather had been honoured and respected for his wisdom and caring spirit. “You’re just like your grandfather!” Jeremiah was frequently told. I believe those words planted a seed of hope in his spirit.
When his family left the reserve yet again, this time relocating to Calgary, Jeremiah repeated grade ten at a highschool I eventually attended. Even though he frequently skipped school to play pool across the street, I believe it was his love of sports that started him on a different trajectory. Being naturally athletic, he earned a position on the school’s football team. But belonging to the team meant he had to make a commitment to school, a rule he quickly learned when he ended up on probation for missing classes.
Back at home, things continued to deteriorate. After a fight with his mum, Jeremiah left home with no place to go. The team was all he had. To remain on the team, he would sleep in the bus shelter or on a friend’s couch, anywhere he could, often getting to school early so he could shower before others arrived. Many still regarded him as a bully and a troublemaker, but Jeremiah’s coaches saw beyond his behaviour. Taking time with him off the field, walking him through his struggles, treating him with honour and respect, his coaches helped him to navigate through his difficulties so he could think ahead to his future.
Jeremiah had always dreamed about becoming a police officer, however, this dream seemed out of reach due to the many struggles he’d faced and the choices he had made. His behaviour did not align with his goals. Fortunately, his football coach was also a school resource police officer. He challenged Jeremiah to pursue his dream and to not give up.
We met at a house party, twelve years ago. I’m not sure how we connected, but perhaps our love of sports and competitive spirit drew us together. Jeremiah was vulnerable about sharing his goals so he had become somewhat of a project for me. It didn’t take long for me to see past his walls and despite his hard exterior, find the love care and compassion he had for others. When I heard he was going to spend Christmas alone that year, I knew what I had to do. I talked to my parents about having him join us for Christmas, and they reluctantly agreed. Christmas is a big event in my house, and wanting him to feel included we all bought him gifts. He later told me that he had never experienced such a sense of belonging in his life. And the man who had taught himself not to cry, found himself welling up with tears at the love he experienced. But isn’t this what family’s for?
Anyone who knows me understands that I’m all about encouraging people to reach their potential, I believed in Jeremiah’s dream even though many scoffed at him, saying that his past disqualified him from a distinguished future. Nevertheless his perseverance and hard work finally paid off. When he became a member of the Calgary Police Service all of us celebrated. His mum was so proud. Our daughter was born six months ago. In that short time, in addition to being a loving husband, Jeremiah also became a dotting father.
Now, sitting here in the hospital waiting room, praying he won’t be taken away from me, just as we’re starting our own family, the thought of losing him rips me apart. At the sound of the waiting room doors opening, reality returns. When the surgeon tells us that Jeremiah has pulled through his grueling 13 hour surgery, gratitude and relief washes over me. There will be a long road of recovery, but with Jeremiah’s fierce determination, he will soon be back doing what he loves to do. Continuing to honour the legacy of his grandfather.
- Chelsey
You can help make the difference in a young life like Jeremiah’s!
