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Borrowing Tomorrow A borrowed tomorrow unescaped sorrow Love abandoned, abused Little broken hearts, confused Innocence children, little girls and boys never knowing childhood joys Fears, the depths of a child's soul facing life without control Desperate cries, reasonable to weep tormented eyes, disturbed sleep The culprit of their pain unable, unwilling to explain Parental instincts gone love unshown Fostered and unclaimed, they borrow each and every tomorrow *see additional note |
Additional Notes:
This poem is written for Buddy Barbarita, in memory of his father, and in respect for Father's Day. The Barbarita's are Arkansas residents, but they moved here in (Buddy was 3years old then)1991 from Yonkers, NY. Buddy or little Roy, at age 3 was and still is today my son's, Nick (12), best friend. Buddy was only 8 years old when this most tragic event turned his little life around. His father, Roy, died on June 15, 1996, the day before Father's Day, in a Harley accident in which my husband, Donnie, was involved in, just the two of them. Our families were best friends, from kids to parents. After Roy died his wife, Buddy's mom, was so depressed that she turned the wrong way for solace to overcome her deep depression. She indulged her pain in alcohol and started using street drugs like crack and crystal meth. She was as non-existent in Buddy's life as his father was. So hooked on drugs was she that sold or pawned every single possession they owned to support her $300.00 per day habit until they had nothing, absolutely nothing at all. I'm not talking small potatoes here either. For instance, Buddy went to school one morning and when he came home that afternoon his NEW bicycle that his dad had bought (an early birthday present like maybe Roy knew that he was going to die before Buddy's June 23rd birthday) for him was gone, it had been sold. His mom said someone stole it, but Bud knew better. Buddy had to do allot of growing up very quickly within those earlier years because his little sister was only 9 months and when mom was wasted (all the time)he had to tend to her, bottles, changings, bath time, bed-time, every thing - it was a terrible time for all involved and an even worse condition of which our state's, Arkansas, DHS would do nothing to intervene. Buddy, mostly Buddy because of Nick, and his sisters spent allot at my house with me being mom to my three children and them as well. It broke my heart and even made me angry to see this once close-knit, loving family literally destroyed. These children were devastated by the lose of their dad and their mom was too self-indulged (not meaning to judge as I don't know what I'd do given those same shoes to wear)to give a hoot. In 1998, two years and 3 broken hearts later though, Buddy's mom went into rehab and is doing much better as a mother these days, but those days of "borrowing tomorrow" still haunt Buddy from time to time. I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I love my Bud. (((Buddy will be a teenager in 11 days, in 3 days Roy will have been gone for 4 years-Father's Day is always very hard for Buddy, which is also this coming up weekend, always remember to keep children like Bud in your prayers as do I))) thanks Kelly Evans
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