I met Gregory on a Saturday morning.
Same date three years ago...he was standing right outside my door, his knuckles almost met my door when I opened it.
That's how we were- I could feel him ten miles away.
He did not say anything. He didn't have to.
I stood there waiting.
When I let him in, he said 'you have to do something about this. Don't sit on this Arch,because what you have is something the whole world dreams of but they never get, I wish I could be of help, but that's all I can say, just go for it.'
And when I was on the Patricia Show- he told his whole 1234 friends on Facebook to watch me. When my feature appeared on the paper he bought two copies, he gave me one and framed the other. I can still see that cut out now that I'm here.
He was the first one to treat me to an iced mocha and cake- as we celebrated, but now that I see this, I can't help but wonder what he'd say.
What he'd do and what he'd get to say. If he could and if he is the same Greg I knew- somehow I know he is, but he is in another world. He shakes and screams in his sleep. They say this is just a phase and he will be well.
When I lost my Dad, I sought solace in my writing. He lost his Dad, and his Mom had so much to work on. They found out so much stuff that broke them down. His debts, wives and four kids- all his deeds came out in the open and he went for the powder. I hear it was heroine.
Now, all these years I wonder what did I do?
What kind of friend was I not to have seen all this?
His Mom is sorry- she says that she should never have taken him to their home in America, that she should have let him stay here in kenya among his friends, he would have been through this.
So here I am, three years later, this Saturday knowing that Greg is not the same.
I am sad that the only thing I can do is write about him, but not only that- I will write about him-what he used to be and read to him every second I get, because he needs to remember, he needs to get out of this hole and maybe just maybe a shining light is what he needs.
He needs a friend.
So I walk into the room- and his eyes bore into him, 'Arch...hey, long time...'
We'll make it through this.
Gregory and I.
Same date three years ago...he was standing right outside my door, his knuckles almost met my door when I opened it.
That's how we were- I could feel him ten miles away.
He did not say anything. He didn't have to.
I stood there waiting.
When I let him in, he said 'you have to do something about this. Don't sit on this Arch,because what you have is something the whole world dreams of but they never get, I wish I could be of help, but that's all I can say, just go for it.'
And when I was on the Patricia Show- he told his whole 1234 friends on Facebook to watch me. When my feature appeared on the paper he bought two copies, he gave me one and framed the other. I can still see that cut out now that I'm here.
He was the first one to treat me to an iced mocha and cake- as we celebrated, but now that I see this, I can't help but wonder what he'd say.
What he'd do and what he'd get to say. If he could and if he is the same Greg I knew- somehow I know he is, but he is in another world. He shakes and screams in his sleep. They say this is just a phase and he will be well.
When I lost my Dad, I sought solace in my writing. He lost his Dad, and his Mom had so much to work on. They found out so much stuff that broke them down. His debts, wives and four kids- all his deeds came out in the open and he went for the powder. I hear it was heroine.
Now, all these years I wonder what did I do?
What kind of friend was I not to have seen all this?
His Mom is sorry- she says that she should never have taken him to their home in America, that she should have let him stay here in kenya among his friends, he would have been through this.
So here I am, three years later, this Saturday knowing that Greg is not the same.
I am sad that the only thing I can do is write about him, but not only that- I will write about him-what he used to be and read to him every second I get, because he needs to remember, he needs to get out of this hole and maybe just maybe a shining light is what he needs.
He needs a friend.
So I walk into the room- and his eyes bore into him, 'Arch...hey, long time...'
We'll make it through this.
Gregory and I.
hey,people change and don't beat yourself about it, that's how it goes.
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