My mom had a childhood friend who eventually became my brother’s godmother. She lives with her husband and kids a few streets from mine.
But this is not a story about the golden friendship between these two great women. That story needs a whole other page. This is about her son who died last Sunday.
We had a lot of fun playing RPG at the GM’s newly renovated place. Good friends, my good chili con carne, good game. We headed home at around 10:30 p.m. I was surprised that my mom wasn’t there. She and my brother were at the hospital.
In the morning, they told me the story.
He has been trapped in his parents’ home to avoid arrest for 4 years. Two years into the hiding, he attempts to go out and got beaten up by a rival gang. He was never close to me or my brothers, particularly because of his bad record.
He spent some time in the hospital. He recovered but could never go out again. He wants to work and go out with his old friends but he couldn’t.
He fell in love with the girl next door. She became his only glimmer of hope, and only connection with the outside world, besides his family. This May, she ended the relationship as she plans to go to the U.S. and she does not believe in long-distance relationships.
Last Sunday, he died by hanging himself. An photo-album filled with his moments with his girlfriend was at his feet. He left a five-page farewell letter to his family. My mom went with his mom to the hospital. They tried to revive him for an hour but he was already brain dead… or maybe he just lost the will a long time ago. He was only 24, just a few months older than me.
I feel sorry for my mom’s friend.