Chicago Critter at Queen Of Heaven Cementary
This was the homie but he was also deep in that lifestyle, the same exact one that’s taken so many kids in Little Village. He had two parents who loved him and did their best, but he still chose the streets. Maybe he thought that life would give him the respect he was chasing.
Instead, it took everything.
When he died, all the memories and effort his parents put into him disappeared in an instant. They couldn’t even afford a headstone, I had to use a grave locator just to find where he ended up. Do I feel bad? Yeah, at one point he was my friend. But do I feel guilty that I couldn’t save him? Not at all.
If his own parents couldn’t change his course as much as they tried, what could a friend really do?
Now all that remains is a quiet patch of dirt where a wooden cross used to stand. No one visits. No flowers. His old crew? They’ve moved on. Some had kids, some got married.
Life kept moving — but he didn’t.
And if I sound harsh, if I don’t sugarcoat or glorify this, it’s because I actually care. I’ve lived through this — I’ve seen it over and over. I’m not gonna sit here and pamper choices that destroy communities. These kids aren’t helpless — they’re choosing, and those choices come with real consequences.
Someone has to say it how it is.
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