Via Billy Bearden
My cousin was murdered a few weeks ago. Shot in the back of the head by a “friend.” And robbed. He was 29, harmless, but attached to one too many friends in low places. The killer, predictably, was also a young black man. Just as predictably, my cousin only met his father once or twice – just enough to keep his gut throbbing with the snub of paternal abandonment.
His older brother patched the gaps as much as he could. He encouraged him, chastised him, and called him on most days just to check in – like a father would. And like a father, alarm bells went off when his younger brother never returned his many calls a few Sundays ago. It was extremely unusual.
His older brother patched the gaps as much as he could. He encouraged him, chastised him, and called him on most days just to check in – like a father would. And like a father, alarm bells went off when his younger brother never returned his many calls a few Sundays ago. It was extremely unusual.
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