My very best friend that I found in Belmont is Mr. Hilliard. A big, african-american, well built man, who starts his day everyday with a smile. We will walk together to the gazebo at quarter off for cigarette- meaning cigarette for me, and inhaling my smoke for him. We share the same compassion for food, which explains why we ate more than three hotdogs and hamburgers on the fourth of july. His eyes sparks with a childlike look when we talk about cheese- especially peta cheese. He would share his love of BB King and blues music with me- while my mind is digesting this new thing that was introduced to me.
Seeing him everyday is like a delight to me. To see someone who passes the full circle of live of doing something that he loves-helping others. He makes me laugh, when he frowns like a child everytime I tease him. We have a lot of things in common, like our hesitation to accept compliments. The biggest tease for each of us is complimenting each other, and we will be pouting for somewhat five minutes-before we started laughing.
In his 67 years old of living, he is looking forward to start a new life and a new page in life. No regrets. And he is one happy fellow that I want to be my friend forever. He wants me to continue living, and I told him that I also want him to do the same thing. He would look at me like a kid, while I give him advice as if I'm 67 years old.
We both have difficulty realizing that we need help, not because of our snob feeling, but more for wanting not to bother others. We sabotaged important relationship in our lives, and only tell how much we love the people in our live to each other.
Being unable to go outside for 4 whole years and talk with people, I am honored that Mr. Hilliard lets me be a part of his life. He is my grandpa.
I remember vividly, one time during our cigarette time. he was helding a white stone. He keeps on looking at that stone with a proud look. He boasted to me happily that he found a lucky stone. I told him I don't understand what a lucky stone is. He looks utterly amazed and tell me what a lucky stone is. And he looks at that white lucky stone as if it was a diamond. I can't help but to smile to see how happy he is with his new toy. It was then I know that I deeply cared about him. As the cigarette time is finished, I tell him that it is almost time to go to groups. He looked at me and stand up. As we walk to go to groups, as he looks down to the ground beneath my feet, he handed the stone over to me. "I want you to have my lucky stone", he said. I was speechless. I know it was hard to find a stone anywhere in that place, not to mention a white stone just like the one that he held. I know he has pain in his knees and could not walk any farther than 1 miles. And I know that he loves the stone, just by the way he plays and looks at the stone. I was surprised that he would do that for me. Before tears starts rolling, I quickly say thank you and avoid seeing him. Unable to express emotion as we both are, the occurence may seem like the coldest moment between us since we don't say much.
And now, I still carry my lucky stone everywhere. I put the lucky stone inside my most expensive purse. My horsebit gucci purse. For the stone is much more expensive than the diamond or purse that I wear.
Mr. Hilliard sincerely wish me luck for my life. He did it by giving me stone. What he didn't know, is that meeting him is the luck in my life.
I am sorry that I never said this to him, but I know he will run away if he hears this. But I know he know how much I cared about him.
I tried so hard not to cry when I left the place. I never had the chance to say goodbye to him because they quickly ushered me out of the place. As I walked with my two big plastic bags, he and only he alone, came to the window and knocked two times as I see tears fills his eyes. I quickly waved my hand to say goodbye, and give the biggest smile. Because I know he wants me to be happy. Twenty steps later, I broke down and cry. Twenty steps farther from him, I pour my sadness in tears, because I don't want him to see me cry.
I cried because I treasure our time. I cry because he might never remember me anymore. In his 67 years old of life, he begins to forget things and often ask me the same question for three times.
I cried because I could not contact him. We never exchanged phone numbers and he never pick up phone calls.
I cried because I don't even know where he lives or where he is going, except that he's going to Veteran Aftercare.
But as sad as I am, I would never exchange those memories. And with every luck that I have in my life, I will look at my white stone and wish him the same thing.
Bob, shall we say...ATTTTEEENNNHUTTT together...the way you tought me to do it..the way we used to do it....
Seeing him everyday is like a delight to me. To see someone who passes the full circle of live of doing something that he loves-helping others. He makes me laugh, when he frowns like a child everytime I tease him. We have a lot of things in common, like our hesitation to accept compliments. The biggest tease for each of us is complimenting each other, and we will be pouting for somewhat five minutes-before we started laughing.
In his 67 years old of living, he is looking forward to start a new life and a new page in life. No regrets. And he is one happy fellow that I want to be my friend forever. He wants me to continue living, and I told him that I also want him to do the same thing. He would look at me like a kid, while I give him advice as if I'm 67 years old.
We both have difficulty realizing that we need help, not because of our snob feeling, but more for wanting not to bother others. We sabotaged important relationship in our lives, and only tell how much we love the people in our live to each other.
Being unable to go outside for 4 whole years and talk with people, I am honored that Mr. Hilliard lets me be a part of his life. He is my grandpa.
I remember vividly, one time during our cigarette time. he was helding a white stone. He keeps on looking at that stone with a proud look. He boasted to me happily that he found a lucky stone. I told him I don't understand what a lucky stone is. He looks utterly amazed and tell me what a lucky stone is. And he looks at that white lucky stone as if it was a diamond. I can't help but to smile to see how happy he is with his new toy. It was then I know that I deeply cared about him. As the cigarette time is finished, I tell him that it is almost time to go to groups. He looked at me and stand up. As we walk to go to groups, as he looks down to the ground beneath my feet, he handed the stone over to me. "I want you to have my lucky stone", he said. I was speechless. I know it was hard to find a stone anywhere in that place, not to mention a white stone just like the one that he held. I know he has pain in his knees and could not walk any farther than 1 miles. And I know that he loves the stone, just by the way he plays and looks at the stone. I was surprised that he would do that for me. Before tears starts rolling, I quickly say thank you and avoid seeing him. Unable to express emotion as we both are, the occurence may seem like the coldest moment between us since we don't say much.
And now, I still carry my lucky stone everywhere. I put the lucky stone inside my most expensive purse. My horsebit gucci purse. For the stone is much more expensive than the diamond or purse that I wear.
Mr. Hilliard sincerely wish me luck for my life. He did it by giving me stone. What he didn't know, is that meeting him is the luck in my life.
I am sorry that I never said this to him, but I know he will run away if he hears this. But I know he know how much I cared about him.
I tried so hard not to cry when I left the place. I never had the chance to say goodbye to him because they quickly ushered me out of the place. As I walked with my two big plastic bags, he and only he alone, came to the window and knocked two times as I see tears fills his eyes. I quickly waved my hand to say goodbye, and give the biggest smile. Because I know he wants me to be happy. Twenty steps later, I broke down and cry. Twenty steps farther from him, I pour my sadness in tears, because I don't want him to see me cry.
I cried because I treasure our time. I cry because he might never remember me anymore. In his 67 years old of life, he begins to forget things and often ask me the same question for three times.
I cried because I could not contact him. We never exchanged phone numbers and he never pick up phone calls.
I cried because I don't even know where he lives or where he is going, except that he's going to Veteran Aftercare.
But as sad as I am, I would never exchange those memories. And with every luck that I have in my life, I will look at my white stone and wish him the same thing.
Bob, shall we say...ATTTTEEENNNHUTTT together...the way you tought me to do it..the way we used to do it....
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