Fortitude

They said they knew, but they didn’t know at all because when
you left—you left a trail of destruction strewn from here to
wherever you went. Friends gave assurances that you’d be back
to heal the severing in me, the severing of me: my remembrances,
my horrifying reality, my perspective.

No worries. My buddies have not a clue about how life is, but
you do. My trust in you has always been unsurpassed. You taught
me how to be a man; to always look adversity straight in the eye.
Now thanks to you I see the world 20/20. You taught me never to
believe what a person tells me no matter how sincere they seem
or how great their reputation is; to never ask for help regardless
how dire the situation. I learned that whenever I dream of the
possibilities of how marvelous things can be, I need to wake up!
Dreams, you said, are for those who sleep, and nightmares happen
every day of the week.

I aint no punk! Your departure is merely a stumble along this
road called life. So when I mosey over to the track, and the
runaway train is accelerating toward me: lights flashing, horns
blaring, people screaming, engine chugging; I will boldly follow
through with what you’ve instilled in me. As the locomotive’s
momentum increases I will not sway left, I will not lean right.
I will sit resolutely on the pulsating rail, stare down the speeding
freight missile, and bravely take my severance as I ought to take
it, as I was taught to take it … like a man.

journeyman