Excerpt from Son of Mine: From Suicide to Hope, Volume I

Prologue

He was an old, stooped black man, face heavily lined, gray hair peeking from under his tattered baseball cap. “Jesus Saves” and “God” were sewn into it. His eyes though, were soulful and kind as he greeted each customer while he bagged food at our local grocery store.
I had seen him there countless times. In my young adult impatience, however, I had no time for the way he carefully arranged and placed food into our bags, always humming. Those eyes would occasionally look up into my own, and a wise, sincere smile would break out onto the dark, creased face.
He made me uncomfortable and today especially I was in no mood. My parents had been fighting more than ever. My mind was reeling from their latest battle and my father’s hateful words to me.
“The Lord has His hand upon your heart boy,” I heard the old man say.
“Excuse me,” I said nervously, looking away from that steady, almost quizzical gaze.
“Yessiree,” he said. “You be mighty strong in Him someday.”
I glared at him, scooped up my bags, and pushed past him trying to hurry away. It was raining already and as I walked from the store, the rain began to fall harder, darkening my already sour mood.









Chapter 1
Present: A Taste of Asphalt

Did you ever feel so much hurt you wanted to just try and run away from it? The type of pain you would do anything to escape as it takes you over and controls your mind?
I felt unloved, worthless, a failure. It was if I was invisible, unseen, and nobody really cared.
I left the party that night, hopping on my motorcycle despite the warning from my friend that I had been drinking too much. Nothing mattered except trying to outrun the gnawing ache in my heart. How fast should I go to purge myself of the despair that threatened to overtake me?
Nearing one of the most dangerous roads, my motorcycle sped up to around 70 miles per hour.
“Take me, God. I am so tired of it all,” I said. Then I remembered nothing more.