I used to write a lot in this group...wrote from my heart. I didnt know any victims, so I wrote with deaf ears, and a deaf heart. I moved away from the area, and felt so disconnected, I left the group. I feel bad for that move. Saturday, someone I love plunged their last needle full into their veins, and it reminded me that I am not here for me. I had to rejoin. I had to fight no matter the distance. He is not from anywhere near Fayette County, but it is a reminder of what is going on in my old backyard. Here is his story: Thirteen years ago you became a little brother. There wasnt a day that went by that you didnt make me laugh. You stole half of your jokes from Eddie Murphy, but I didnt care. They were funnier from your lips. We had our inside jokes about doilies and snakie. Its been a few years since Ive heard your voice, and thats my fault. Youve never left my heart, no matter the distance or circumstance. You pretended to know something about football, when we went to The Spring House. Reading the TV behind my back. There was a mirror in front of me, I knew what you were doing. It didnt matter though, I enjoyed the company. You did your best to hide your pain, but I saw it in your eyes the way a real brother could. You were you know. You are the reason I am married. You gave me a place to live so I could stay close to my girlfriend in a land where I had no one. You convinced your momma that I was worth it, and that the couch was empty without me. Ive prayed about you a hundred times, the Rolodex always landed on B. . Ive prayed about the demon that you fought, over and over, and you did fight. I know it. So here I am, a crumpled mess. My heart is in a blender, my tears reached the floor. Ill be okay, but my alphabet will not be complete with out you B. Ive heard you say this to me, it was funny to me because I was older. I always replied with, I love you too, man. Its my turn to start it. I love ya, kid. HERE IS MY STORY ABOUT THE SITUATION, TAKE IT AS AN APOLOGY FOR LEAVING THE FIGHT: As a writer, I have seen the first hand experience of what words can do when you throw them out in the world. I also know that there are times to let things be unspoken. What I cant get over is the fact that there are times to write, and through selfishness, laziness, or procrastination, it doesnt get done, and the good that could come from it is vanished forever. I dont expect to fix the world. I know I cant. I know what I say may not impact what needs to be impacted, but there is no excuse not to try. That is what I am left with, my heart in two pieces. Im not meant to carry your burdens, but I believe in someone who is. Sometimes, I am used as a telephone. In those times, I must pick up the three-way call. Sometimes a call back is too late. Sometimes, when I get to the phone at the other end, it is disconnected, and I get the message that I failed. I must be better at answering no matter the outcome. I must at least try. When I cast all my cares, I want you to know that you can too. I want you to know that I am available to talk. I want you to know that I will answer the call. I may not know the answer to your problem, but I know who has the answer. I am fallible, but I will be better. I cant miss the call again.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Aug 2014 03:17:44 +0000
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