RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON

For much of his teenage years, Gavin Wright's drug use caused his family no
end of worry and pain. It took leaving home to help him return to his
family, and even start to speak to other teens about drugs, alcohol and
self-esteem. Then disaster truly struck.

CREDIT: Brent Foster, Una Wright, and her son, Gavin, founded a group called
YouthSpeak in 2003 to offer peer-to-peer discussions about teen issues. 'He
was so brave,' says Ms. Wright of Gavin's first speaking engagement, given
on short notice at an area high school.

A mother leans over her teenage son to place a kiss on his forehead.
She smells something in her son's dark hair. Cigarette smoke.

It's not me, he says. It's because of a friend.

Thank goodness, she thinks.

The year he started Grade 8, Gavin grew up fast. He changed schools,
developed a six-pack and became good at sports, seemingly overnight.
The girls loved him and he made new friends, recalls his mother, Una
Wright.

There were other changes, too. Gavin's eyes were often red. He blamed
his allergies and Ms. Wright rushed out to buy her son allergy medication.

By 1999, about a year later, Ms. Wright and her husband, Don -- middle
class professionals in Newmarket -- were absorbed by their older son's
behavioural problems. Later, she realized, they weren't tuned in to
the warning signs of Gavin's drug use.

As a child, Gavin had been a keen Boy Scout--he was cuddly, playful
and energetic. At the time, Ms. Wright couldn't have known the
problems her household would encounter or the curious path to
forgiveness that occurs within a tight-knit family.

Eventually, Gavin's drug use became obvious. Ms. Wright found baggies
of marijuana and hashish in his laundry and his room. At school, he
started cycling through a series of counsellors and final warnings.

For three years, Gavin's drug use dominated his parents' lives. It
became as much a test for them as it was for him. Sometimes, Ms.
Wright awoke in the middle of the night, focused on some new insight,
some magic words she thought might fix her son. "These are the words
of inspiration that will make a difference," she would think. Deep
down, she knew it wasn't the case.

"It becomes all-consuming, every minute you're thinking about it,"
says Ms. Wright, now 45. "You're always on the phone, looking for
counsellors, looking for support, looking for your kid."

Like many parents with disruptive children, the Wrights fought over
how to handle their son. They had no friends and were afraid to have
people over on a Saturday night, never knowing who might knock on their
door.

When Gavin was 16, the police called Ms. Wright, asking her to pick
him up from the station. She said no. She had two younger children who
were watching their older brother's dance with drugs. She had to think
of them, too.

Tough love can elicit contrary emotions. Gavin moved in with his boss,
who owned a local diner, and the family grieved his loss from their
home. Ms. Wright felt "ripped off" as a mother. She wanted to care for
her son when he was sick, but knew she couldn't.

Ms. Wright describes that time in her life as "a trip to hell and
back." That's exactly what it felt like in those years, she says.

If you love someone deeply, is it easier or harder to forgive when
they cause you grief? Does love raise the stakes of forgiveness? Or
can love make forgiveness a given?

When the Wrights asked their son to leave their home, it seemed to
mark a turning point for the teenager. Gavin eventually started
attending more counselling sessions, connecting with his family and
listening to his instincts, which told him right from wrong.

And that was all Ms. Wright needed to forgive a child who had caused
her worry and pain.

"All we ever want is to see them happy and on the right path," she
says. "Just being a loving, decent person and finding healthy
relationships and ... normal stuff -- if that's all you really want,
out of everything that you've gone through with them, when you see
that start to happen, you just let go of the past."

It might require work to rebuild a relationship with others, but it's
a natural process with your child, says Ms. Wright. You only wish for
their happiness -- and maybe the odd sign of appreciation.

Gavin's new path in life was marked with occasional bumps and
unpredicted turns. Within a couple of years he had steered clear of
drugs and became a speaker for YouthSpeak, the organization his mother
founded in 2003 for teens to talk to other teens about issues such as
alcohol, drugs and self-esteem.

"He was so brave," says Ms. Wright of Gavin's first speaking
engagement, given on short notice at a area high school. He was a
natural speaker and his parents were proud.

By 2004, Ms. Wright had largely reconciled with her son, the problems
of his past eclipsed by the promise of his future. Ms. Wright spent
hours talking to her son about school, work and the "normal stuff"
that dominates the lives of 18-year-olds.

"We had good, open communication and I really treasured that," she
says.

The Wrights' story might have ended there, with a tender
reconciliation between mother and son.

There is, however, a postscript.

On his 19th birthday, Gavin was en route to meet friends for dinner
when he swerved to avoid a car hydroplaning on a wet and slippery
highway. Another car hit him from behind. He died instantly in the
crash.

At his funeral, teens and parents surrounded Ms. Wright. One teen said
Gavin had helped him get off drugs, another said Gavin saved him from
a suicide attempt. A third said Gavin helped him through drug withdrawal.

"He had a purpose here and he was fulfilling it," she
says.

She also acknowledges the importance of their reconciliation.

"It would have caused greater pain inside of us if we hadn't been able
to resolve things before he died," she says.

In his mother's favourite photo, Gavin is casually leaning back into
his hands, folded behind his head. His smile is wide and playful. His
expression is carefree.

The photograph is in a YouthSpeak pamphlet, with his thoughts about
self-esteem and personal change.

His mother loves the picture. She imagines him up there, still
grinning and enjoying his freedom.

About This Series

What does it take to forgive? What would be impossible to forgive? As
Christians around the world prepare to celebrate Easter, a group of
Citizen writers is exploring some remarkable acts of grace. They have
found stories of people forgiving horrific acts involving violence,
betrayal and unimaginable loss, and in return finding the scars they
carry easier to bear. In the days leading up to Easter Sunday they
will share these experiences, and the insights they allow into the
great theme of Christianity's central holiday.