Cast of characters: Zach

Photo of Zach with his beloved Chessie, Desdemona, taken about two years ago.


Zach is the last of my family to be included in our "Cast of Characters," not because he's not important, but because he's such a huge part of my life, and it's very hard for me to write about him. If I took a photo today, it would be Zach alone, without Desi who died last August, and you would see that he has shoulder-length hair and the same handsome face as he does in the "little Zach" picture below.

The younger of my twins by 7 minutes, Zach was by far the most curious and outgoing of my 3 kids -- also the most sensitive. I rarely worried about him because he was such a capable and loving child, but I should have. He was much more "Simpkins" and far less "Falter" than either Mitch or Beth, and he seemed to have Peck's spirit from the outset.

Today Zach lives totally alone, has no friends and sees only me for days and days on end. He has been diagnosed as "paranoid schizophrenic," and the last 10 years of his life have been more difficult than any of us can imagine. He has been homeless, jailed, tasered, beaten, institutionalized and marginalized. He showed signs of mental illness during his last year at the University of Virginia, but he graduated with a 3.2 GPA in spite of that. Then the all-out battle for his freedom and his mind began, and he went down hard. His illness shaped our family and challenged each one of us to dig down deeper than we could imagine to see him through this life-altering illness. I feel equal parts indignation, sorrow and outrage that our society treats those with mental illness as if they are criminals, but I've spent myself in futile attempts to change that.

This wonderful child is still locked up inside him, the boy who was musical, verbal and athletic, who loved his family and was full of ideas and plans. But most days I don't see it, and I have to trust that it's still there. I've done everything I can possibly do to keep him safe and give him a chance at a life of his own, but it never seems to be enough. On most days, I simply take him as I find him and offer my love and support and presence.

Before Daddy got trapped in his own mental confusion and dementia, Momma told me that every night before he went to bed, he got down on his knees and prayed for his grandson. He could never quite accept what happened to him, but he needed to know that Zach wasn't alone, abandoned. Maybe in the growing confusion of his own mind, he had some deeper understanding of what it's like for Zach.

It's impossible for us to understand the disintegration of a brilliant mind, but I want to believe that it is still a "beautiful mind," that he has some chance of recovery, that his gifts that are hidden will be revealed again.