My wife got the text message last night at around 2:30am – we have a very dear friend of the family whos mother passed away last night from lung cancer. She was around 46 years old, and she had been a heavy smoker for years. She leaves behind a couple of children, and a couple of very young grand kids. The grand kids are only about 1 – 3 years old, not old enough to remember the time they spent with their grandmother. There will never be a chance to pass down stories, never be a chance to go to birthday parties, Christmas, no Thanksgiving,,,,, nothing but a visit to her grave from time to time.
While thinking about our friends mom, I also started thinking about my other friends that have passed away.
When my brother and I were growing up in Bridge City, Texas, we had some friends in the neighborhood that where the same age as us. There was Bret and Troy, Steven and Gene , John and David, Bobby and Mike. Steven was the same age as my brother – 2 years behind me – and Gene is my age. When I was a senior, I heard that Steven had gotten into drugs pretty bad. It was so bad that his mom and dad kicked him out and he was having to look for a place to live. Steven went to live with Bret and Troy for a little while, but the parents of Bret and Troy found Stevens drugs and was told to leave the house. From there, Steven left Bridge City and went to live with his sister in Port Arthur. That was probably one of the worst things that could have happened. From what I understand, drugs were a lot easier to find in Port Arthur then in Bridge City. This meant that Steven had easy access to all kinds of illegal drugs.