Advent Home Learning Center, Inc.

My family was very close, and we did things together. My Dad and I got along well. I was very content with my family, which seemed very stable. Then, one day, without announcement, my Dad moved out of the home.

My grandparents came to the rescue financially and also provided the emotional support we needed. I loved my grandfather more than anything in the world. He was a Christian man and played the role of a father to me.

One day, my Grandpa went to the doctor for a checkup. They found out that he had cancer. The news devastated the family. I just couldn’t believe that this type of thing could happen to my Grandpa. It was depressing.

Shortly after we found out that grandpa was ill, I began getting into trouble. Midway through the 8^th grade I began experimenting with cigarettes and marijuana on weekends.

My grades were A’s and B’s. I didn’t think smoking a little on weekends would matter. In addition, my parents didn’t seem to know what I was doing. By this time, I was emotionally and physically pulling away from my family.  Friends came first and my family was shoved to the back seat.

As a freshman in high school I would attend only three of 8 classes. My behavior was now catching up with me. By the end of the first semester, my GPA plummeted from 3.5 to 0.5.

At this stage, my sense of responsibility was pretty much gone. I didn’t care about anything, not even myself. My family was the last thing on my mind. My life was slipping right through my fingers.

At times, I would keep my mother up all night wondering where I was. I would stroll in a couple of days later as if nothing had happened, totally insensitive to the emotional pain I was causing my mother and grandparents that I claimed to love so much.

At this point cancer was eating away at Grandpa, but I didn’t have the sensitivity to pay him any attention. He meant everything to me, and yet, all I was doing was disappointing him and the rest of my family.

My parents saw what was happening to me. In desperation they intervened and stopped me in my tracks.

On Wednesday morning, June 16, 1999, at 5:00 a.m., my Dad and a family friend came to my bedroom and woke me up.

My dad stood over me and told me they were taking me to Tennessee . With two big men standing over me, I felt trapped and shocked.

I soon realized I was not getting anywhere and when I saw a pair of shiny handcuffs dangling from my father’s hands, I knew it was not going to be a democratic process.

My father told me to put my clothes on and go willingly. I refused. He gave me the option to cooperate or be handcuffed.

Standing in my new pair of handcuffs, they walked me to my Grandpa’s bedside to say good bye. I knew I was seeing him for the last time.

As we embraced, we were both crying. In his tears he told me he supported the decision. “Son”, he said, “it is best for you to go”.