Bobby and I were good friends back in middle school. We were early morning running buddies and partners in teenage boy pranks. At some point, he suddenly moved away and I never saw him again.
Fast forward forty-something years later, I attended his uncle’s funeral—a man who was a mentor to us both. Someone told me, “Bobby is here.” I said, “Where?!” It had been so many years, I wasn’t sure I could pick him out of the crowd.
One of the pallbearers looked familiar. I went up to him after the service, “Is that you, Bobby?” It wasn’t. Later, at the graveside service, I asked his cousin to help me find him. She pointed, over behind the tent, and there he was! His face had more creases and lines, but it was clearly my old friend, and he still had a full head of hair—unlike me.😊
We reminisced about our reckless teen years and caught up with each other’s lives. Bobby told me he is a supervisor with AAFES, a military contractor. I shared with him about flourishing in my third career as an educator.
There had to be a photo, of course:
A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. Proverbs 17:17
Kind reader, many times over the past four decades, I’ve thought about my good friend Bobby. “How did his life turn out; was he okay?” It was the passing of a dear father-like figure to us both that brought us back together. Finding my old friend again, behind a tent in a cemetery, felt less like a search and more like a gift from God.
Thank you for reading. 🙏❤️ Prayers and love.
The Stigma Stops Here.🛑
#mentalhealthmatters
Davids Daily Dose 
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