My friend, a gentle soul with a heart of gold, Pete.

A couple years ago I worked part time for an at-risk youth organization. We met with youth in their late teens and early twenties who had or were about to age out of the system and needed help finding a job, getting into school, and basic life guidance. Issues ranged from having addiction problems or had come from an otherwise dysfunctional family or difficult environment. It was both gratifying and heartbreaking.  It was and still is a tremendous organization and those that founded it have a tremendous passion for helping young men. I admire them greatly.

There was a man named Pete that volunteered countless hours to the group. He was older, and in his 60's. He had overcome his own addiction problems and had a heart for these young men. He knew how to help people get clean and he knew an addict when he saw one.  He gave his all to these young men, and to me.

As much as Pete would do for this group, he made me uneasy. We butted heads quite a bit. He hit all my triggers. He was intense, yet had a heart of gold. He brought up things that made me incredibly emotional. I was uncomfortable around Pete. Pete would often make some of our students, and myself angry. He would often make them cry and push them to the brink of their emotions. I was mad at Pete for doing this. 

Pete didn't have much patience for me when I got that way. These situations were heated and I can’t say I ever enjoyed them. 

Helping those in difficult situations isn’t always enjoyable.

Pete would often ask if he could come watch me work.  He said I was good and he enjoyed watching people that were good at what they do. Naturally I didn't think I was that good. All I did was take pallets apart and make all things with them like tables and chairs. I never invited Pete to do that. Nor did I find time getting together with Pete over the past few years.

Pete scared the shit out of me.

 I just wanted Pete to be my friend.  I didn’t want him to say things that would cause us to argue or me to get mad.  I wanted to have a normal relationship. 

It wasn’t until about a week ago that I realized that’s what Pete wanted to. But he had something else in store for me first.

Truth is, I wasn't ever really scared of Pete.  I was scared of what Pete brought out me.  Pete was trying to help me not be afraid anymore.

Pete saw me for what I was. An adult child of an alcoholic that had a whole laundry list of mental, emotional and social drawbacks. I wasn't aware of the majority of them at the time, but Pete was. And he saw me, a young man desperately in need of guidance.

You could say Pete wasn't the greatest at helping bring about that change in a "soft" way. He didn't mess around. But he wanted to help. And he could, if you'd let him. I never let him.

Looking back I recognize all the chances he gave me. I see all the ways I got in the way of how he was trying to help those in our program. I see all the ways I got in the way of him trying to help me.
I needed that program as much as they needed me. Scratch that, those guys didn't need me. They needed Pete. I was just there to drive and tell jokes.  

I regret the times I got in the way of what Pete was trying to do.

I’m not exactly sure what made me revisit all these feelings a week ago.  I’m not sure what made me look for characteristic traits of an Adult child of an Alcoholic. Sunday, January 7th 2018, is the day that it became undeniably clear to me what Pete’s role in my life was for.  An apology was due for me not understanding at the time and I was hoping he could help me with the difficulties I would experience moving forward.

Monday morning, January 8th, Pete passed away. I’ll never get a chance to tell him. 

Pete was a hero.  Pete is a hero.  Words will not be able to express how much he will be missed by so many.  

I love you, Pete.  Rest easy my friend. You’re still helping me.