Lost Soul.

When I was eight years old and living in East New York, I had a landlord who’s son has a mental disorder. The guy who is several years older than me would go months being “normal” and then just lose it for days. I think his mom (the landlord) didn’t have enough money to treat him and really take care of him.

Unfortunately after we moved out, his mother died and he was left alone. His brother got the house and he was left wandering the streets. Since we still go around that neighborhood for church, laundry, and other errands we see him from time to time. Usually in a different states. I’ve seen him in a martial arts uniform, raggedy clothes, clean decent clothes, and with or without a cut. Yet, every single time he remembers me and my family. He comes up to us and says hi and we engage in conversation like nothing has changed in the past 11 years. Although he’s homeless and I usually tend to walk away from, or be afraid/intimidated by homeless people he’s different. I’m not the least bit afraid. It’s always like seeing a new friend.

Sadly this past sunday as me and my mother were walking by the neighborhood we saw him. We were both about to say hi when we realized he didn’t recognize us. His eyes were moving rapidly from side to side, he was twitching, and dragging a shopping cart behind him filled with what seemed like junk. It really upset me, to see someone kind of lose it all because he couldn’t get professional help.

I’m not sure how I’ll feel when I stop seeing him around. How devastating it will be to have to assume he’s dead.