Growing up in a world where all odds are against you isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t a joy-ride. The typical athletic black male playing either basketball or football and in this case both, living at home with his single, hard working, beautiful, Wonder Woman like, of a mother.
“How you feeling today mom ?” I asked her.
“I’m alright,” was always her response.
I stopped by the hospital every morning before school, so I had to make sure to wake up super early to get my morning workout in with Jonathan Baker. He was my coach and I was staying with him ever since my mom was in the hospital; that had been for about four months.
She was suffering from being in the third stage of cancer and it was only getting worse, but I tried not think about it. Always attempted to keep my mind focused on basketball and grades. Anyways I thought she would get through it because she always looked well when I came around.
July 17, 1954- August 23, 2000. That was her date and it really hurt me to even think about it. I thought about it so much. The last words I said to her were, “Well I'll see you tomorrow, Coach is outside.” I didn't even get to tell her I loved her.
After that school wasn't going so well for me at all. I stopped caring about everything and about what everybody else thought of me; my junior year! The coach didn't really try to talk to me much but i didn't really care. All I could think about was my mom, and me not being to look at her anymore, speak to her anymore, laugh with her anymore, eat with her anymore, she gone. Gone for good.
Coach took me to counseling but I was not getting any better than I was before; I felt I would always be hurt and that it was my fault.
Coach taking me to counseling allowed me to overcome all of my transgressions and I would push through the minor depression.