Futile Efforts

I added the Orange County Rescue Mission on Facebook a few months ago and Thursday they posted some 20-year-old pictures. Thursday of all days I opened the pics to see a man desperately trying to shield himself from the rain. I desperately tried to shield myself from the tears. Futile efforts.

Thursday was the 30th anniversary of our father’s death. Paul was an alcoholic for 15 years. He was homeless the last 5 years of his life. So roughly 20 years ago he was on the streets. That could be my big brother in the photo. Or it may not be. The truth is every nondescript picture of a homeless man reminds me of him.

Heavy rain. Heavy tears. Both fell … 20 years apart. I couldn’t stop either. I’m not talking misty eyes or a tear or two rolling down my cheek. I cried. Body shaking, such a waste and loss, tears covered my face. I cried for the artist, the brother, friend. I cried because my faith wasn’t contagious. I cried because he is gone and there is nothing I could have done about it.

I opened the pics to see a man desperately trying to shield himself from the rain.
I desperately tried to shield myself from the tears.
Futile efforts.

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