Because he was my son...

Justin Brant Newsom - March 11, 1988 - August 23, 2005

At 17 years of age he passed away from injuries he received during an automobile accident on August 15, 2005. He was the right rear seat passenger. He did not have a seatbelt on and was ejected from the car approximately 50 ft. before landing on his head. His head injury was so severe, he never awakened again after the accident that day. The angels carried him to Jesus side quietly, leaving no doubt that the Lord had called him home.

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I have learned so many things from the life and death of my oldest child, Justin. He was funny, bright, frighteningly mischievious and naive in ways that are difficult to describe. His life was riddled with broken promises, broken hearts and broken dreams. He was born my son, mine alone. His father abandoned us months before his birth and so with the help of his grandparents I welcomed my firstborn child into this world a squawling mess of pink warm flesh, a heart full of love and a head that dreamed he would grow up to love the earth, the cowboy culture of my youth and the rodeo.

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My nearly 6 ft, beautiful son loved skateboards, everything in music from Reliant K to fifty cent... and he did not know the first thing about being a cowboy. He did love the earth and hunting and fishing. He lived every moment to its absolute fullest. He wrung it out and shook it before squeezing it one last time to ensure he had enjoyed every last drop of whatever experience he had landed in for the moment. He was difficult to understand and often harder to love. But he somehow found his way into the hearts of everyone he met. He was bigger than life, a literal bull in the china closet. He would be generous to a fault, and merciless when angry. His bi-polar disorder kept us on a pendulum swing that often found us shell shocked or laughing silly, but there was very little in between. His last few weeks were spent working off his probation fees with his grandfather, discovering that he was ready to live the life he had chosen and accept the consequences for his angry actions. He was a wadded up mess with mixed up feelings, needing his father's love, but hating him just the same. One of his few journal entries shows the great battle for his testimony, "I know I need to be a better man." The words "Jesus is Lord" written in a cross. He was a walking oxymoron - a lover of Christ, dragging his friends to church each week, and walking with them in the world the other days in between.

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He claimed Proverbs 3:5-6 from the cell of the Wise County Jail during the 7 days he spent there after damaging our car in a fit of rage. I thought then that putting him in jail would be the most difficult decision I ever made, but I would later learned that I would have to face tougher realities in the final months of his life. His life verse speaking to me in so many ways. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not to your own understanding. Acknowledge him in all your ways and he will make your paths straight." I tell his story because he was my son.
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