Misha Turtle Island, CTO 🐢

Today is one of my oldest and closest childhood friends birthdays. The kind of friend you can't explain to people unless they had one. The friend that you could trust like family, or in his case, more. We grew up together, and for him, he grew well passed his years in the time that we were close. We me at around age seven at a mutual friends birthday party. We both were into the same things, Ninja Turtles, Nintendo and comic books. Friendships have a way of forming of the important stuff like that. We lived quite close, but our friendship was more than just one of proximity like many neighborhood friends were. We started doing everything together. He'd sleep over my house one weekend then his parents would have me come over the next weekend. His mom was very sweet and she'd be the first to make snacks as we'd play video games well past our bedtime. His dad wasn't around much as he was always seemingly at work, but what interaction I had with him was always pleasant. We did everything together. Our parents both made us join the soccer team and we both hated it. I can still feel the numbness of my face after getting a ball smacked directly into it. I still remember him faking that he hurt his ankle so he could leave the game. We shared our misery. We even had a joint party after our first communion He started having problems in school and because of it, he wouldn't be allowed to hang out a lot of times on weekends. He was never a difficult kid or one to get in trouble, but we were growing up and he was changing. He got quiet when he was previously the loudest and most hyper kid you've ever seen. The night everything changed was when we were 11 and he told me everything. He made me promise not to tell his mom or my parents. He made me promise not to tell our friends. His dad had been touching him. His dad had been making him touch him. I didn't really understand what was happening at the time. I didn't know what any of this stuff meant, I just knew it was bad. His father held him hostage. He told him if he told anyone that he would tell everyone at school he was gay. He'd tell all his friends and all his teachers that he was a little gay boy and that everyone would hate him. He told him that his mother and everyone who he loved would never speak to him again. He begged me not to tell. He made me swear. I wish I broke that promise. I wish I understood the gravity of what had been going on. I hate myself for it. His parents split up and his dad moved out of state. My friend, he got worse. We were 13 and he was drinking, smoking and starting to try drugs. We had gone to separate schools at this point, but he was put into an alternative program for kids with behavioral issues. The last time I saw him was when we were 14. His mom got a new job and they were moving to another state. We make promises when we're young that we'll stay in touch. We didn't. The promise I kept still haunts me though. A long time ago I looked him up on Facebook. I guess I was trying to keep that promise that we'd stay in touch, even if I were late. He hadn't posted in a couple of years and I saw everyone commenting that they miss him. He died of a drug overdose. My friend was gone. My friends life was stolen from him. I was blind with anger. I looked up his father. I wanted to find him. He had died several years prior. I don't know if it's unchristian to feel the way I did, but I prayed his father never made peace with God and repented, so he never sees my friend again. I look at his old Facebook profile photo of him holding his baby daughter from time to time. It cuts like razors. Our secret, till death weighs on me. I help financially with the kid, I talk to the mom, she's a nice lady and is doing her best. I've never told a soul this and I feel like I didn't betray his trust by not naming names. I just had to get this off my chest once and for all. I'll see you again my friend. You were the best friend I ever had.