you may pass him. he is handsome, and his skin is darkened from hours of walking aimlessly in the afternoon sun. he is slim from lack of eating, and not having a set routine. he may have a distant stare, as if he is lost in thought. he once was the most popular kid in school. the phone rang constantly. he was funny, and fun to be around.
then the voices came when he was around nineteen, that was seven years ago. the doctors called it schizophrenia. he spent several years in places they called residence houses. his friends became lost souls whose faces were distorted from years of torment.
we tried so hard to help him, but he wouldn't take his medicine. for a while he had an apartment. he couldn't make it on his own.
he left our house several months ago. we had no contact of any kind with him. his mother cries every night. i saw him yesterday. he was sitting near our mail box, waiting to get his check from ssd. i begged him to come in, so he could contact his case worker. his voices have convinced him that i am responsible for his illness. i asked him what he has been doing. he said he walks. at night he sleeps in alleys and behind restaurants. i took him and bought him food, then helped him cash his check, which he had been forging my name to. i asked him where he wanted to go, and he told me i could let him out where we were. we were twenty some miles from our home. when i drove off i looked in the rear view mirror. i saw my boy walking. he told me he needed to figure things out. i thought of all the many Christmas mornings, all the Birthday parties, the bed time stories, the times when he would just hug me for no reason. he will never, ever be the same. it's almost too much for a parent to grasp.
i cried for him. i cried for his mother. i cried for me. he is out there, now. i can never explain the hurt, and feeling of helplessness. he is walking in a world he no-longer understands. he is so lost. please be kind to him. he is my son.