Mother’s Day is a sad one for me.
My aunt raised me because I never knew my father, and never really knew my family. That was very hard. I walked the streets and got in trouble. I went to prison for arson. I was also set up in a robbery. I was furious at the trial, and the judge said he understood. But he said I had taken the law into my own hands and sentenced me to six years in prison.
When I got out, I met my grandmother for the first time. I asked her who was in my family because I still didn’t know. I got my first job cleaning apartments. I did so well that the management gave me my first apartment. But I started smoking weed and drinking alcohol. Then a woman turned me onto crack cocaine. I was shot in 2001 and have 16 screws in my left thigh from that. But God is good. Now I’m a deacon in training.
I still don’t know whether my mother is dead or alive. Now my grandmother is my mother. I call her that, and she treats me like her son. I treat her and every woman with whom I come in touch with respect. I’m stronger with God on my side and Street Sense in my life. Street Sense allows me to open up and talk about my feelings. We all need someone to talk to.
God bless everyone. If your mother is alive, honor her.
