Max is NOW!

It’s getting to me too much.
I don’t even know how to think about it.
Kenny is dead.
The funny little kid. Obsessed with beanie babies and fishing in the fake pond at the camp.
He followed me around a lot, you know. Always kind of looking at me like I had something he could learn.
Then I quit working with those kids at the church.
Saw him a bit ago. I think I was wondering through the old skeletons in my closet and on the church campus I used to call my second home.
He saw me and waved. He stopped me.
“I’m following your footsteps, Max! I work with the kids in sunday school, it’s so much fun.” His eye lit up when he told me this, like I was some sort of person to find validation from.
I just told him it was “good,” and I cut the greetings short.

And now he’s dead. 17 years old, and the kids dead. I’ve seen too many of them die already.

And I can never tell him that I was proud. That even though I lost my sight, my vision, he had it. To carry the torch I guess. To be a better man than I am.

Poor fucking kid smiled like there was no tomorrow. And then there wasn’t.

http://www.ocregister.com/news/wilson-practice-church-1814258-football-yaqub