The other day I pulled up Facebook and read the following post:
If I can live a junkie life, I can live the homeless life. Did it at age 14, so i can do this again
I have had this stupid post on my mind. Not just a little bit. A whole bunch. I worked in the yard all weekend and my thoughts kept drifting to my friend and this post.
Tiny lived with us for a small stretch. You would have to look him in the eyes to see what I see. BUT I see him. I do. He is such a good kid. The world is simply waiting for him to take hold and become the hero in his own story.
There was a small stretch of time when my boys lost friends to drugs, alcohol, even suicide. They have been pall bearers and were forced to say goodbye and place their friends in the ground. Heartbreaking is not nearly a strong enough word. But it WAS heartbreaking.
When I went to Jordan's funeral, Tiny was there. After the services, he walked up to give me a hug. Imagine his surprise when instead of wrapping my arms around him, I kicked him. Hard. In the shins.
I told him I wasn't doing this again. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I won't watch him destroy himself. I won't attend another funeral. I won't bury him. Ain't gonna happen.
So, Tiny, knock it off. I'm serious. See what I see. Believe in yourself like my family believes in you.
Christopher Robin said to Pooh:
“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
Tiny. If you are reading this...I believe in you.
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