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cabensonWhen I was in my early twenties, I became friends with a co-worker, and as a result, with her three young boys. They were 8, 10, and 12 years old and always referred to me as "Aunt CB" even though they had a dozen biological aunts. She gave me a room to rent when I was unable to afford my apartment anymore-having recently separated from her husband, she needed a little extra cash- and her boys all moved into the same small room so I could have a place to stay. Shortly after I moved in, she was involved in a serious car accident, and with their father in Texas, I wound up taking care of three boys. Fast-forward five months and she and her hubby have reconciled and I have moved back home and started college. We still worked together, so I was able to keep up to date on all of the happenings with my "nephews". Then I moved away, and except for the occasional Christmas card and work-related contacts, we lost touch. Tonight I got a phone call.
Her youngest son, Josh, had struggled for the last 10 years or so. He was a party-boy and spent time in and out of both jail and rehab. He met a girl, they had a child, but he never settled down. A few years ago, he wrecked his car and broke his back. He recovered, but continued to struggle with drugs and alcohol. His struggle ended last Sunday when he overdosed. He would have been 27 next month. I haven't seen him since he was 10. I still remember this eight year old boy who sat in my lap while we watched a scary movie, a little shit who laughed like crazy when I lifted him up and held him against the wall just for shits and grins. And now he's gone.
The funeral is on Saturday, Mrs. CB has a class, and I need to decide if I am physically able to drive that far. She told me not to feel obliged to attend, but I do. For a few short months almost twenty years ago, he was my boy, and I think I need to say goodbye.
Her youngest son, Josh, had struggled for the last 10 years or so. He was a party-boy and spent time in and out of both jail and rehab. He met a girl, they had a child, but he never settled down. A few years ago, he wrecked his car and broke his back. He recovered, but continued to struggle with drugs and alcohol. His struggle ended last Sunday when he overdosed. He would have been 27 next month. I haven't seen him since he was 10. I still remember this eight year old boy who sat in my lap while we watched a scary movie, a little shit who laughed like crazy when I lifted him up and held him against the wall just for shits and grins. And now he's gone.
The funeral is on Saturday, Mrs. CB has a class, and I need to decide if I am physically able to drive that far. She told me not to feel obliged to attend, but I do. For a few short months almost twenty years ago, he was my boy, and I think I need to say goodbye.
