I remember how I met him, the stranger next door. He was homeless living in the empty apartment next door. I had just moved into the building a month before him. I couldn't complain, I moved in while the building was being renovated. Mainly because I had escaped from an abusive relationship. The manager let me live there rent free until I finished school. He was the homeless nephew of the manager. I still had a month to go before graduation, and I still had to do an externship. Looking back I'm surprised at my bravery. He had left the door to his apartment open. I walked in as he lay sleeping on the bare floor. "What are you doing here, are you homeless?" I asked. "No, my uncle let me crash here until I get myself together" he replied. I asked him why he wasn't "together." he said it was a long story. I offered him breakfast.
A five year friendship started that day.
Gilbert Brown turned out to be my bestfriend. I still miss him. We had so many good, and bad times together. He saw me through many trying times. We included each other in everything. My graduation, new job, his new job, my wedding planning. He was an honor student and belonged to the Debois Honor Society, and my mentor. He's gifted and brilliant. He taught me how to public speak; something that always frightened me. He would spend hours coaching me, until we were both annoyed at each other. Now when I do any public speaking people tell me I'm a natural, but really I had a great teacher. He loved art, literature and poetry, and taught me how to appreciate it. We used to call ourselves Pinky and the Brain. He once took me to a five hundred dollar dinner for president Clinton. No matter what he got involved in, he wanted me with him. We shared our deepest secrets, and craziest dreams. We loved each other with all purity.
Gilbert got his perfect job and girlfriend. He started writing grants, proposals, and new ordinance for the City of Detroit. His girlfriend was a new City Council Member. He asked me to dinner to tell me. I was so happy for him. His girlfriend is beautiful and sweet; we got along great. The City Of Detroit set him up in a new high rise apartment overlooking the river and Canada. They even furnished it for him. He was living his dream. Until it turned into his nightmare.
At the time I was the church secretary. The Sunday service had just begun. I heard him before I saw him. He was crying, not the soft gentle tears kind. His sobs were loud and deep, coming from his very soul. He cried out my name with a deep groan. Everyone in the church look to were the sound came from, and then to me. I was slightly embarrassed at first, wondering if he was drunk. When I saw his face I knew it wasn't an act or drunken escapade. I could see the agony in his face. He ran to me with his arms extended. I tried to comfort him, and get him to tell me what was troubling him so. At first all I could get is my name. I took him out of the sanctuary into my office. Finally he told me he had been standing at the riverfront all night contemplating suicide. He said when he thought of me and how I would take it, he just started walking until he made it to church. We did finally go back to the sanctuary. He put his head in my lap and cried the whole time. I just comforted him with a touch. My friend was hurting and I didn't care what anyone had to say.
At his dream job, he said there's a lot of corruption. Others were taking advantage of his gifts, and credit for his work. Everything in his life that he thought was good wasn't. He felt defeated as if life would always be unfair. We cried together. I begged him not to hurt himself. He said he didn't want to leave this world without Jesus, and when he did leave he wanted us to be together again one day rejoicing with Jesus. He promised me he would shake off the pain, and stand and make changes where he worked.
Five months later I moved to Cincinnati against his protest. He begged me not to leave. He said if that he doesn't have much time in life, and he wanted me close in case anything happened to him. I knew Gilbert could be a bit dramatic. I told him I'm only a phone call away and I would be back and forth, stop being such a baby. We talked regularly. He seemed stronger and his relationship seemed back on track. Two months later he was dead. I would give anything to have that two months back.
His girlfriend called me the night before the funeral. I was happy to hear from her, I hadn't heard from her or Gilbert in a couple of weeks. I gushed on about missing her and Gilbert, Then I asked where he was. She said, "I called to let you know he died a few days ago and his funeral is tomorrow." I was caught off guard and I didn't have words of comfort for her. I had no words at all! She told me that she put me and my sister name on his obituary as his family, because she didn't know his family and we were all the family he ever talked about. She offered to send me an obituary. I hung up without saying much. I just needed to cry. I went into the closet. I don't why closets has always been the place I would hide my tears.. I cried, and like Gilbert I cried his name loud and from my soul. I didn't have enough notice to go to the funeral. I went to work that following day. Several times I had to excuse myself as a cascade of tears rolled unashamed down my face.
It's been twenty years since Gilbert died. I never found out how he died. I was told his stomach was bothering him one day, he went to the hospital and the next day he was dead. I tried to get in touch with his girlfriend several times after the funeral, mainly to try to offer the comfort that I refused her that night she called. My phone calls were never returned. After a year I stopped trying. I haven't heard from her til this day. His death will always be a mystery to me. One thing I do look forward to, that's us rejoicing with Jesus. Like King David said, when his first son by Bathsheba died. "But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." I wait with expectation to see Gilbert again, just like we talked about. I don't know why God gave me Gilbert for only a season, but I'm glad he did. I do know that we have to find love where we can, and every stranger is a potential friend.
Fearless/Pinky
A five year friendship started that day.
Gilbert Brown turned out to be my bestfriend. I still miss him. We had so many good, and bad times together. He saw me through many trying times. We included each other in everything. My graduation, new job, his new job, my wedding planning. He was an honor student and belonged to the Debois Honor Society, and my mentor. He's gifted and brilliant. He taught me how to public speak; something that always frightened me. He would spend hours coaching me, until we were both annoyed at each other. Now when I do any public speaking people tell me I'm a natural, but really I had a great teacher. He loved art, literature and poetry, and taught me how to appreciate it. We used to call ourselves Pinky and the Brain. He once took me to a five hundred dollar dinner for president Clinton. No matter what he got involved in, he wanted me with him. We shared our deepest secrets, and craziest dreams. We loved each other with all purity.
Gilbert got his perfect job and girlfriend. He started writing grants, proposals, and new ordinance for the City of Detroit. His girlfriend was a new City Council Member. He asked me to dinner to tell me. I was so happy for him. His girlfriend is beautiful and sweet; we got along great. The City Of Detroit set him up in a new high rise apartment overlooking the river and Canada. They even furnished it for him. He was living his dream. Until it turned into his nightmare.
At the time I was the church secretary. The Sunday service had just begun. I heard him before I saw him. He was crying, not the soft gentle tears kind. His sobs were loud and deep, coming from his very soul. He cried out my name with a deep groan. Everyone in the church look to were the sound came from, and then to me. I was slightly embarrassed at first, wondering if he was drunk. When I saw his face I knew it wasn't an act or drunken escapade. I could see the agony in his face. He ran to me with his arms extended. I tried to comfort him, and get him to tell me what was troubling him so. At first all I could get is my name. I took him out of the sanctuary into my office. Finally he told me he had been standing at the riverfront all night contemplating suicide. He said when he thought of me and how I would take it, he just started walking until he made it to church. We did finally go back to the sanctuary. He put his head in my lap and cried the whole time. I just comforted him with a touch. My friend was hurting and I didn't care what anyone had to say.
At his dream job, he said there's a lot of corruption. Others were taking advantage of his gifts, and credit for his work. Everything in his life that he thought was good wasn't. He felt defeated as if life would always be unfair. We cried together. I begged him not to hurt himself. He said he didn't want to leave this world without Jesus, and when he did leave he wanted us to be together again one day rejoicing with Jesus. He promised me he would shake off the pain, and stand and make changes where he worked.
Five months later I moved to Cincinnati against his protest. He begged me not to leave. He said if that he doesn't have much time in life, and he wanted me close in case anything happened to him. I knew Gilbert could be a bit dramatic. I told him I'm only a phone call away and I would be back and forth, stop being such a baby. We talked regularly. He seemed stronger and his relationship seemed back on track. Two months later he was dead. I would give anything to have that two months back.
His girlfriend called me the night before the funeral. I was happy to hear from her, I hadn't heard from her or Gilbert in a couple of weeks. I gushed on about missing her and Gilbert, Then I asked where he was. She said, "I called to let you know he died a few days ago and his funeral is tomorrow." I was caught off guard and I didn't have words of comfort for her. I had no words at all! She told me that she put me and my sister name on his obituary as his family, because she didn't know his family and we were all the family he ever talked about. She offered to send me an obituary. I hung up without saying much. I just needed to cry. I went into the closet. I don't why closets has always been the place I would hide my tears.. I cried, and like Gilbert I cried his name loud and from my soul. I didn't have enough notice to go to the funeral. I went to work that following day. Several times I had to excuse myself as a cascade of tears rolled unashamed down my face.
It's been twenty years since Gilbert died. I never found out how he died. I was told his stomach was bothering him one day, he went to the hospital and the next day he was dead. I tried to get in touch with his girlfriend several times after the funeral, mainly to try to offer the comfort that I refused her that night she called. My phone calls were never returned. After a year I stopped trying. I haven't heard from her til this day. His death will always be a mystery to me. One thing I do look forward to, that's us rejoicing with Jesus. Like King David said, when his first son by Bathsheba died. "But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." I wait with expectation to see Gilbert again, just like we talked about. I don't know why God gave me Gilbert for only a season, but I'm glad he did. I do know that we have to find love where we can, and every stranger is a potential friend.
Fearless/Pinky
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