(The writing prompt for 6/27 is Lost.
With the utmost respect and a grieving heart,
I offer this…)
Last Friday, our oldest son awoke to over
100 missed calls and messages.
His roommate, at home for the summer, had killed himself.
Oh, we loved this young man!
So full of life, wreathed in smiles.
How lost must he have felt, to choose this path?
I hurt for everyone, his parents especially.
There are not enough words.
Tears seem to be the only language.
When the blind can't see, take them by the hand.
When the lame can't walk, carry them.
When the deaf can't hear, show that you hear them.
When the lonely can't feel the light, shine one upon them.