Monday, 16 December 2013

NOT EVERYONE HAS A MERRY CHRISTMAS


























As you know now and again Soldiers off the Street   come across something on the net that gets to us, here is one we found today that we can relate to, as we have come across very similar stories from people living on the streets.
We have a lot of people in this group that work with the homeless and we are sure they will agree this made up story is very close to fact for many homeless people!!

As always we recommend you to have your tissues at the ready!!

The Broken Man
By Alan Forrest Smith | December 6th, 2012

A letter from a son to a mother.
The son is the broken man.

Dear mother

I hope you are well yet I am broken man.
Here I am today, right now, cold, and sore and sleep deprived walking along a wet empty street. It’s filled with people out shopping, smiling, laughing and doing all the things all people do at Christmas but for me empty of soul for my life.
I’m broken, snapped in two, torn apart and so so sad for life. I know I shouldn’t be but today I am stuck, trapped into a corner yet despite my endless pacing today I am truly broken.
My lover has gone, my father has gone, I have no home to boast, no friends to friend with, no compassion to receive, no love to embrace, no nothing for nothing.
Mother has life cheated me or did I cheat life? What took place was a moment that led me into darkens yet I know beyond darkness there can be light. Where is my light, where is the shine for my heart.
Oh my darling woman I wish you were the eyes that were to read this page. I adored and loved you until I could pour no more. I hurt you, my love has left me I am a broken man.
Mother I need to be held like you held me when I was a child.
Mother I need to be read to like you read to me in my small bed.
Mother I need to be encouraged and cheered on so this race I can complete.
I’ve just seen Father Christmas on the main street. The children were cheering, singing, waving, laughing and I could see in the small eyes the joy of Christmas eve and the thoughts of waking mum and dad up on Christmas day before daylight wanting to go and see if Santa had been.
Mother can you remember doing that with me your small, innocent boy? Me and my brother would run through at 3am, 4am, 5am, 6am and keep running through until we got both of you out of bed and downstairs. Can you remember the look on our faces as the old lounge door creaked open to reveal presents from Santa yet we would rush over to our old brick fireplace to see if Santa had eaten his shortbread and taken the carrot for his reindeer?
As I walk along this freezing cold street, my tears freeze as they run down into my unshaven face. I am filthy, I am broke, I am ripped in two by life itself. The drink, the drugs, the wasted opportunity has brought me to this point. My Christmas dinner if it exists will be scraps from the city trashcans. I do have a food secret on the street. The guy in Starbucks seems to have taken a liken to me and if I am outside on closing he always brings me a sandwich, hot coffee and a cake. Maybe the next one will be turkey, cranberry and stuffing.
Mother I miss you, I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you and my father and my family and my darling woman over the years. I do wonder how is she, do you see her?
I know you were all patient with me, so patient with me yet by destruction has set its course and refused to let go of me. I am so sad, I am so broken, I am so lost lost lost and shattered, barely, hardly human anymore. My life is about surviving; the joys of my life have long gone.
Tonight my bed will be where I stop. I have no bedding, no mattress, no anything. I will be abused, spat on, kicked and beaten. In a finer moment someone will take pity on me, they will look at my humanity not my insanity and make some kind of offering to me. If I am lucky I might have a conversation and be on the receiving end of kind words.
My mind goes back to the days of wine, laughter and good food. How I would love to taste your dinners just once more, How I would love to drink the drink of kings around the big table just once more. How I would give anything to feel the flesh of my lover against my skin just one final time. My days have come mother, they have come.
Mother I miss you so much, this world has ruined many lives yet I am the ruin of my own. I know your heartbreak for your boy is greater than my loss and I also know your heartbreak came from my actions.
Tonight I want to die. Tonight I want it all to end yet my greatest fear is tomorrow arrives and the day repeats itself.
So mother I know its Christmas and I hope you can read this scribble on the back of this old piece of cardboard. I have no money to pay for a card and no money to pay for paper.
I’m sorry I mailed it through in the night also. I couldn’t allow you to see me like this. I know you’d be shocked and as broken as me to cast your eyes upon the son you birthed just over 26 years ago. I look like I sound I am old for my years and beaten to a pulp.
Mother please doesn’t cry now. Today is my last day on earth. I have done and I have given up. I have tried and I have lost. The darker side of life has over run me; the worst part of mankind has devoured me, chewed me up and spat me out. Tonight I shall sleep for the very last time.
Christmas in a life like this is too painful. I can’t face another Christmas like this. I cant live another winter like this. I can’t bear another moment in my body like this.
I am so sorry mother, you are wonderful, kind and you are my love. Tell my father I adored him and tell my brother I loved being his brother. It started well and hasn’t ended so well yet life handed me an experience to be experienced but sadly I took the wrong ones. Forgive me mother and pray if there is a God he will also forgive me waste.

I love all of you.
I am beat.
I am done.
I am a broken man.