Donation protected
My twin sister’s husband surrendered his battle tragically in their home on Saturday.
We had known him since childhood and they were together nearly since, give or take. One of their favorite memories was running off together as children to share pears underneath the pear tree. Our moms went to high school together. Given his life events, he always was a little shackled at the ankles, something you could feel behind his (not always so frequent but really nice) smile. He was a little hard to relate to or understand for many people. I am one of those people. My twin sister, however, was not. That’s probably part of why she loved and empathized with him so much.
David Cheek’s ultimate battle was depression. It was long, hard and cut deep. But he also lost his battle with addiction. Depression fed his addiction… and both eventually fed his actions and choices, especially during the hardest, most recent, years. My sister loved him through these and wanted nothing but to support and lift him up. You see, that’s the kind of person she is. She loves with hope, almost to a fault, has the biggest heart that is full of an even bigger love. She longs for that love to make others feel accepted, to feel hopeful too. That’s all she ever fought for, for David. Ultimately, years of struggle were just all too much to bear and bigger than anything we can offer on this earth.
Those who have learned the news have asked what they can do. Unfortunately, the complexity of these struggles brought David to a place of deep pull to sustain his need and numb his pain, which left Sarah head of the household and his family living less than paycheck to paycheck and with two wrecked cars. This is what true pain looks like: it destroys everything in its wake.
He leaves behind a wonderful, talented and deeply good, growing young man, his son, David Isaiah, 14 years old. It will be a long road for him and my sister, and I will be damned if it isn’t paved with support. They will need everything they can, from emotional to financial, and not just for the next days or weeks… but months, years. But we are here with them. It takes a village and we will be theirs. Lifting them up and showing them light in this darkness will be part of David’s continued purpose, which we hope will touch many in the midst of this tragedy.
His battle is over and we truly believe he is whole now and has found the peace that eluded him here on this earth. I’ve struggled with how to write this because it feels bigger than a loss of life. It’s truly the face of pain. Anger is pain. Depression is pain. Addiction is pain. Rejection is pain. In the end, I’m not angry at the person. I’m angry at the pain. I wanted this post to have a happy ending. But that is still in progress. I am confident, however, that through this experience, we have the power to make it happy as Sarah and my nephew find their way to a new purpose. That is, I am confident, what David would have always wanted and hoped for.
We are working behind the scenes to organize resources for them and these donations will help with all of that. We need to move them from that house. We need temporary housing in the meantime because she will not return to that place. We need support groups. We need to fix or replace one of their cars. This will help relocate, get them access to therapy they wouldn't otherwise afford, fix/replace car, possibly help purchase a home. As we know more, we will report. If you cannot contribute financially, but want to somehow, please message me and we will loop you in another way. In any case, love on each other.
David may have lost his battle, but God has the ultimate say. And we believe it’s already won.
2 Timothy 1:7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
Psalms 91:11-12 For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.
We had known him since childhood and they were together nearly since, give or take. One of their favorite memories was running off together as children to share pears underneath the pear tree. Our moms went to high school together. Given his life events, he always was a little shackled at the ankles, something you could feel behind his (not always so frequent but really nice) smile. He was a little hard to relate to or understand for many people. I am one of those people. My twin sister, however, was not. That’s probably part of why she loved and empathized with him so much.
David Cheek’s ultimate battle was depression. It was long, hard and cut deep. But he also lost his battle with addiction. Depression fed his addiction… and both eventually fed his actions and choices, especially during the hardest, most recent, years. My sister loved him through these and wanted nothing but to support and lift him up. You see, that’s the kind of person she is. She loves with hope, almost to a fault, has the biggest heart that is full of an even bigger love. She longs for that love to make others feel accepted, to feel hopeful too. That’s all she ever fought for, for David. Ultimately, years of struggle were just all too much to bear and bigger than anything we can offer on this earth.
Those who have learned the news have asked what they can do. Unfortunately, the complexity of these struggles brought David to a place of deep pull to sustain his need and numb his pain, which left Sarah head of the household and his family living less than paycheck to paycheck and with two wrecked cars. This is what true pain looks like: it destroys everything in its wake.
He leaves behind a wonderful, talented and deeply good, growing young man, his son, David Isaiah, 14 years old. It will be a long road for him and my sister, and I will be damned if it isn’t paved with support. They will need everything they can, from emotional to financial, and not just for the next days or weeks… but months, years. But we are here with them. It takes a village and we will be theirs. Lifting them up and showing them light in this darkness will be part of David’s continued purpose, which we hope will touch many in the midst of this tragedy.
His battle is over and we truly believe he is whole now and has found the peace that eluded him here on this earth. I’ve struggled with how to write this because it feels bigger than a loss of life. It’s truly the face of pain. Anger is pain. Depression is pain. Addiction is pain. Rejection is pain. In the end, I’m not angry at the person. I’m angry at the pain. I wanted this post to have a happy ending. But that is still in progress. I am confident, however, that through this experience, we have the power to make it happy as Sarah and my nephew find their way to a new purpose. That is, I am confident, what David would have always wanted and hoped for.
We are working behind the scenes to organize resources for them and these donations will help with all of that. We need to move them from that house. We need temporary housing in the meantime because she will not return to that place. We need support groups. We need to fix or replace one of their cars. This will help relocate, get them access to therapy they wouldn't otherwise afford, fix/replace car, possibly help purchase a home. As we know more, we will report. If you cannot contribute financially, but want to somehow, please message me and we will loop you in another way. In any case, love on each other.
David may have lost his battle, but God has the ultimate say. And we believe it’s already won.
2 Timothy 1:7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
Psalms 91:11-12 For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.
Co-organizers (3)
Leilani Steffan
Organizer
Grapevine, TX
Stephanie Ddryddeen
Co-organizer
Stephanie Dryden
Co-organizer