our boy

He left on a journey of self-discovery. We told him to find himself by looking in a mirror, we knew where was. He didn't find it amusing.


So he left that day. Left and didn't tell us why. Didn't ask us, his friends, his family, what we thought. Just got up, walked away, and never looked back.


Thinking about it now, he needed help. We obviously couldn't give it to him. And if I were back there, right now, in this very instance, knowing what I do now, I still don't think I could've helped him.


None of us could. But who knew? Who knew that, six months later, he'd be into coke and heroine. That he'd be boozing and gambling and banging every bird he'd met. That he would say yea, rad, right on, when they told him it was a good idea. When they told him to jump.


None of us knew. None of us knew how to save him, bring him back from the edge, and now, at his funeral, with his mom crying and his dad zoning out into space, no one knew how to save ourselves. He was our boy. We failed him.