"A Brother's Faith"36" x 24"
acrylic on canvas
November 2009
I.
“Tol, we could let him sell the tickets too you know,” my childhood friend told me as we were walking down the hallway of our old high school.
“Are you sure about that? I mean, I don’t know about you but I haven’t seen him in ages. Has he really changed?” I told him with a questioning look. “Last time I really saw him was when he got committed to rehab for his drug problems. It is you guys who have managed to see him through all these years since high school.”
“He has changed…a lot. And he has already proven it when he managed Chris’ store,” he said. “Just have faith,” he added.
“I don’t know. I have my doubts,” I said.
“Just have a little faith in him. You will see,” he said.
“Oh, alright. I believe you.”
“Good.”
II.
“The only thing that can boost up Kuya’s confidence is if someone just believes that he can do it,” my younger brother told me while he was hammering the nail on wood.
“So you think he can do it huh?” I asked him.
“Yeah, I think he can,” he answered as he lifted his head and wiped the bead of sweat on his forehead. He walked to the other side of his workshop and lifted a small delicately finished table from the floor.
“See this?” and handed me the beautiful piece of furniture.
“Is this one of your finished works?” I asked, as I admired the smoothly varnished and beautifully crafted table that have been quite a familiar quality in his workshop.
“No. Kuya did that,” he said and crossed his arms, “He’s done several of those small furniture here. He’s improved a lot. He only needed someone to believe,” triumphantly, he added.
---------------
These are the ‘stories’ of two men I know whose lives have been ravaged by drugs.
They are two men who in their later years have rebuilt their lives free from their past.
They are both fathers.
They are both wanting for a little faith that they can be the men they almost lost.
They are our brothers.
“Tol, we could let him sell the tickets too you know,” my childhood friend told me as we were walking down the hallway of our old high school.
“Are you sure about that? I mean, I don’t know about you but I haven’t seen him in ages. Has he really changed?” I told him with a questioning look. “Last time I really saw him was when he got committed to rehab for his drug problems. It is you guys who have managed to see him through all these years since high school.”
“He has changed…a lot. And he has already proven it when he managed Chris’ store,” he said. “Just have faith,” he added.
“I don’t know. I have my doubts,” I said.
“Just have a little faith in him. You will see,” he said.
“Oh, alright. I believe you.”
“Good.”
II.
“The only thing that can boost up Kuya’s confidence is if someone just believes that he can do it,” my younger brother told me while he was hammering the nail on wood.
“So you think he can do it huh?” I asked him.
“Yeah, I think he can,” he answered as he lifted his head and wiped the bead of sweat on his forehead. He walked to the other side of his workshop and lifted a small delicately finished table from the floor.
“See this?” and handed me the beautiful piece of furniture.
“Is this one of your finished works?” I asked, as I admired the smoothly varnished and beautifully crafted table that have been quite a familiar quality in his workshop.
“No. Kuya did that,” he said and crossed his arms, “He’s done several of those small furniture here. He’s improved a lot. He only needed someone to believe,” triumphantly, he added.
---------------
These are the ‘stories’ of two men I know whose lives have been ravaged by drugs.
They are two men who in their later years have rebuilt their lives free from their past.
They are both fathers.
They are both wanting for a little faith that they can be the men they almost lost.
They are our brothers.
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