As a young man, All was a skilled artist, a potter with a wife and two fine sons.
One night, his older son developed a severe stomachache. Thinking it was only some common
intestinal disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very seriously.
But the boy died suddenly that night.
Knowing the death could have been avoided if he had only realized the seriousness of the
situation, he always felt he was guilty. To make matters worse, his wife left him a short time
later, leaving him alone with his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two
situations were more than Al could stand, and he turned to alcohol for help. In time Al
became an alcoholic.
As the alcoholism progressed, AL began to lose everything he possessed--his land, house, etc.
Finally Al died alone in a small bar. Hearing of Al's death, I thought, "What a totally wasted
life! What a complete failure!"
As time went by, I began to revalue my earlier rough judgement. I knew Al's now adult son,
Ernie. He is one of the kindest, most caring, most loving men I have ever known.
I saw the love between Ernie and his children, thinking that kindness and caring had to come
from somewhere. I hadn't heard Ernie talked much about his father. One day, I worked up
my courage to ask him what on earth his father had done so that he became such a special person.
Ernie said quietly, "As a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night,
gave me a kiss and said, "love you, son."
Tears came to my eyes as I realized what I had been a fool to judge Al as a failure.
He had not left any material possessions behind. But he had been a kind loving father,
and left behind his best love.