Lee Davenport

Requiescat in pace
Lee McKinley Davenport (April 13, 1968-March 29, 2009)

If you’re a reader of this blog, you know that Lee Davenport was a regular commenter. Lee was one of my most faithful readers over the last several months, and he frequently offered comments on my essays, either in the blog or in a personal e-mail to me.

Lee and I “met” through my blog, then continued that friendship to his blog and to Facebook and “chat,” but mostly through e-mail. I recognized early on that he was struggling and suffering. I offered what comfort I could and occasionally spoke as his “big sister” or sometimes as his “old maid aunt” – trying to encourage him to be more careful of and caring for himself.

Lee killed himself yesterday.

I am still trying to accept that reality.

I learned this when I hopped onto Facebook during lunchtime. Those of us who knew Lee have been trying to share information and consolation.

Lee was dealing with more trials and tribulations than anyone should have to endure all at once. Lost his satisfying journalism job. Got a cancer diagnosis and had to endure hugely expensive chemo treatment without benefit of health insurance … and suffering the government bureaucracy to get disability benefits. Coping with huge financial concerns, lacking a “real job.” The dissolution of his marriage, coming out (first to himself), and dealing with his parents’ Bible-thumping condemnation. Searching – sometimes desperately, it seemed to me – for a lover and partner. It seems like life on every front was fraught with pain and felt hopeless to Lee. And he finally took the ultimate step on Sunday to be delivered from that pain.

I understand that motivation. I was there about a decade ago. But I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that Lee is gone from us. I cannot believe he fell that far into despair. I am as close to speechless as I get. I wish I could turn back the clock a few days so I could grab him and keep him from doing this thing.

Another friend of Lee’s wrote about how times have changed, now that we can feel so connected to people we haven’t actually met. Lee’s death leaves me feeling diminished. I’ve been as articulate here as I can be. Mostly, I just feel the “sighs too deep for words,” and I groan at the despair that led Lee to kill himself and I groan at his absence from this world.

As a Christian, I also trust that he is now safe in God’s fervent embrace.

I am reminded of one of the last comments Lee left on my blog . It appeared here – when I was musing on the lyrics of “Amazing Grace” and our status as “wretches.” Lee wrote to me:

No, you are absolutely not a wretch.

Just as I am coming to believe myself, you are truly loved. More deeply than you can ever fathom.

For many years, I have dealt with feelings of self-loathing, primarily because I never lived up to my parents' rigid standards and, more recently, because I committed the ultimate betrayal, coming out to them as what Dad calls a "queer" in an effort to shame and hurt. But his words don't shame and hurt. He's not my judge, and neither are the people who would deny me the right to be exactly the person God created me to be.

Your experience is so much like mine. I can change just three little words from your post and make them apply to me to a T. . . .

You're not alone. We're in the same boat with lots of people. I hope they all learn just how closely God holds them to his (her?) heart.

I know God now holds Lee in God’s heart. I wish Lee had really, really believed he was fervently beloved by God.

May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest, Lee.