30 Pieces of Silver

Last night was an emotional disaster... another person in my life needed to be emotionally killed and removed from existence. Over the years, I have been trying to support and guide a friend of the family, whom was in dire need of help. For years, I have feed him, clothed him, given him a place to live and even monetary support when I was able to do such. I had shared my life experiences and wisdom in hopes I could make a difference... I suppose because me reminded me a lot of myself in some ways. He is always in trouble with the law, addicted to some substance and even been completely abandoned by his real family. When I was out for the evening, he entered my home and stole my most valuable earthly possession... it wasn't the theft that lead to his demise, it was what he stole. To the average person, it was a just a 5th of Jim Beam whiskey... to me, it was a treasure, trophy and memorial. About 8 years ago, I was an extreme alcoholic and had to quit because I was literally drinking myself to death. I woke up that morning, ready to crack open a bottle for breakfast and stopped myself and never looked back. For the past 8 years, I had this bottle on my living room bookcase as a reminder of where I came from and used it as a source of inspiration and strength to press on through the hard times. Everyone that ever visited my home, knew the story of how I quit drinking and the importance of this sealed bottle... especially this young man. He knew how special it was to me and we had talked of it's importance on several occasions... it was my pride and joy... it was priceless. His addiction proved to be too strong for him and in a moment of weakness, he betrayed me and stole my victory and memories. He could have come into my bedroom and stole some of my chronic pain narcotics or various other medications, money, television, DVD collection, SLR camera or computer... but for some reason, above anything else, he chose my 5th. I viewed this as an act of complete violation... after everything I had helped him through over the years, the continual support and acceptance, guidance and father figure he claimed I was to him. All of my time and efforts over the years had been worth throwing away over a $15 bottle of booze... was our relationship and trust worth so little to him? This act of theft completely befuddles me... he had to know I would notice. He knew I looked at it everyday... it was my strength, my one remaining hope I was worth something and capable of change. Was it the power of his addiction, self-hatred driving him to burn his last bridge or a reflection of how little I meant to him? I guess I will never know, because now he is dead to me... now he has no where left to turn... he is all alone. Some people say family is priceless... but I guess to some, it's value is $15. Perhaps I am just as guilty for turning my back to him now...but I can no longer offer him comfort and strength, because I no longer know where I will find mine.