He placed his hand on my shoulder. "I forgive you, Simon. And I thank you, too."
It was like a sudden cleansing breeze swept through my soul. Within seconds I felt warm rivulets of tears trickle down my cheeks.
***
After my recovery, I went to live with my mother. I overcame my drug addiction - thanks in part to the stay at the hospital, but mostly because now I had people to support me. Within weeks I had a flat and a good job, working for Mr Cranby at the petrol station.
But the dark cloud of guilt and condemnation had not vanished. No matter what Mr Cranby said or what work I put in, the face of my brother still haunted my dreams.
Two weeks into my new job, the inevitable happened: I was arrested. A long list of offences were read out, all revolved around the credit card fraud I'd done with the gang. It looked like I was doomed to more years in prison, with the unavoidable return to bitterness and drug use, despite the progress I had made.
Up before the judge to be sentenced, I stood there silently - blind to the unusually large crowd of spectators.
"You have shown a continued perseverance in the criminal lifestyle," the judge solemnly proclaimed.
Yeah, yeah - get on with it, you old coot.
"However..."
To my surprise, he began to describe my 'heroism' at the petrol station and recent employment with Mr Cranby. Suddenly, I really opened my tired eyes and looked around.
My mother, Mr Cranby and friends who I thought were long gone were standing in the public gallery. They nodded to me with bright smiles as the judge continued.
"It is therefore with much deliberation that I have decided to suspend a custodial sentence. However, I do order six hundred hours of Community Service. Be warned you will be sent to prison if you do not conform to this order. I hope you have learned that crime is not the way."
Yes judge, I thought, for once I agree with you.
I walked away from that court with a light step, knowing I had been given an unprecedented chance. And I soon discovered the judge had given me more than one.
***
The Community Service was supervised by a probation agency in the area I was brought up. At first it seemed as if I'd be cleaning graffiti from walls or picking up rubbish, but I quickly found myself working at youth centres, giving talks to the next generation of potential offenders. I could no longer help my brother... but perhaps I could help others like him, or who would become like him. That was the only way to address my guilt. Many of these young people were heading down the same roads as my brother and me. I had the power to stop them - to convince them that crime, as the judge had said, is not the way.
The dark cloud of guilt caused by my brother's death slowly lifted. Each day of Community Service was a step on the true path to redemption. When I went back to work for Mr Cranby, I took comfort in the knowledge that other lives had been saved.
The river flowed on.
Old dreams were long dead, but a new destiny was born.
Meeting Twice Page 2
