He had dreams.
He wanted to help.
He was my parents son.
He held them in such high regard.
My mom who went back to school to be a social worker in her 40’s.
My dad who graduated high school and went back to school in his 40’s.
They both had designs to bring people up.
To support those who couldn’t support themselves.
My mom worked with families.
My dad worked with young men who didn’t have a dad.
My brother sought out young boys who didn’t have anyone.
He was a support for them just like our parents.
Before he died, he told me he would like to be just like our parents.
He wanted to be a social worker and be a voice for those who were voiceless.
We were lucky to have the parents we did.
If I had to choose parents I’d choose the ones I have.
Had. Our dad died. But we loved him.
Our mom is the best of the best.
It’s sad that he didn’t live to be an adult. He would’ve been a support for us when dad died. He would’ve been a supporter of our mom and me.
He was a good person with issues.
I miss him every day.