How to Pay a Grandson
The funeral was for a 21-year-old who was bi-polar. His medications weren’t sufficient to manage his emotional pain.
So he got hold of some Fentanyl and misjudged the dosage. Now his family was left to manage pain of their own.
The oldest brother traveled in from Florida. He had left home at the age of 16 as an angry young man. But after years of being chased by demons, he decided to fight back.
He found his faith. He quit drinking, smoking and using drugs. He started a business of his own and because it was his passion and because he was just starting out, he was not taking a salary just yet.
The cost of coming to the funeral was a tough but necessary step for this oldest brother, now in his early 30s, who had come to say goodbye to the little brother who idolized him, and possibly reconnect with family and heal some old wounds.
The grandfather was there as well, a stately gentleman who looked like a man of means.
This oldest brother—seeing his grandfather after years away—started telling the older man of his dreams and sacrifices, his plans for building a business that could make money and do some good things in the world.
The grandfather looked at him and said curtly, “I’d work for money, if I were you.”
The older brother looked at the room, now filled with mourners for the brother who had accidentally killed himself.
“That’s not what I hoped you’d say.”
“What do you mean?” The older man was genuinely puzzled.
“I was hoping you’d say you were proud of me.”
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