-Eliazar Guerra, San Quentin State Prison, CA
Before the streets came between my father and I, we were as close as a father and son could be. As I started running the streets, I began to take my father for granted. I stopped appreciating all the things he wanted for me to have.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was there. He attended any ballgame that he could. He loved me. I lost sight of that because the drugs, parties, sports, and bad habits blinded me. He once told me that he wouldn’t be here one day, and that I would regret how I mistreated him. Shortly before my senior year, drugs took my father from me.
A short term abandonment suddenly became a never-ending grief. I never got to say goodbye. On the day he passed, I didn’t speak to him. He had relapsed, and instead of considering that just like anyone else, he was human and made mistakes, I chose to ignore his cry for help.
So today I choose to say it for the thousandth unheard time. Goodbye, Pops.