You were my best friend, and I saw your pain then, so full of sorrow you thought life was based on sin. You told me things you never told anyone else to keep in my heart…I never knew in the end we'd be so far apart.

When she left you, I stood by your side. You told me how she cheated and how she lied. He betrayed your trust; he was your best friend. He was supposed to be there for you in the end. Then, for awhile, you held your head tall…who ever guessed one day you would fall.

When you told me you loved me, I thought your life was full of joy. Your eyes shined bright like you had a new toy. We shared moments no one ever knew. You shed tears and told me how you were blue. I guess your soul was too torn to share in the love. Instead of my arms, you're in God's above.

I'll always love you, and I'll never let go, You'll be in my heart like a bright shining glow. So fly high, Brave One, free as a bird. I'll never let anyone say a harsh word. Be at rest, my love, this promise I'll keep—I know the truth and how you were hurting so deep. I understood how you felt, because I was once there…that no one loved you and no one cared. By the time I met you, too many years had gone by. You just didn't have any more strength to try. But when you left, you finally knew you belonged. You had a family, accepted, you were no longer wrong.

I'll always cherish the time we had, and I'll try my best never to be sad. Adam, your cry for help was finally heard, but now it's too late. Your soul's at peace, no more pain, no more fear, no more hate.

Copyright © 2002 by Tonya Seay. All rights reserved.

My name is Cristy, and I am a mother of two. My daughter Ashley is 14-years-old and my beloved son Zachary is now in heaven.

“Walking Kirby to Class” is an excerpt from Thom’s book, Embracing Fear.

Out here, in the so-called real world, to the untrained eye, I was a psychotherapist and Kirby was my client. I was the shop owner and she was the customer. And in all the official, appropriate ways, it remained so—from beginning to end.

On January 27, 1995, my father was involved in a tragic accident. He had some men working at his home on a defective furnace. In the course of the morning, he decided to go to town to buy a newspaper. He always joked that he had to read the newspaper daily to see if he was in the obituary. This morning was no different.