Parents Of Suicide
Writings Library
Writings for Carlos

Robert Gentile
May 23, 2000

Going Home

In this place where life once coursed along the path of unconditional love, compassion and yearning for a better way, There's been only sadness since you're gone.

And in this place, where I reached for the impossible, fought all the odds, whispered prayers in your ear and supported your fragile spirit from the depths of my being, There remain only the bits and pieces of broken promises and shattered dreams since you're gone.

In lifetime after lifetime, I wanted to be the hands that held you when you were slipping, the eyes to see yourself clearly, the mind to help you solve the problems that would one day end your life. More than anything, I wanted to be the love that cradled your broken heart, mending it with my unshakeable conviction of your worth.

Let's go home, my son. Extend your trembling hand to me once more, and our spirit will rise like a phoenix. Determined and lucid, we will visit life once again.

This time we will learn that the beauty of Hawaii is a reflection of who we are. We will know that the majesty of the Waianae Mountains is a measure of our worth and strength. And when we glimpse the mystical beauty of the Kalalau Valley, We will know that this is a vision of our true self- pure, eternal, devoid of unhappiness and one with the universe. And finally learning this truth, the anguish of self tormenting and despair will shatter before our eyes. We will experience once and for all time the inexhaustible joy and splendor that is the essence of these Islands and the core of our being.

Then in this place, remembering who we really our, life will be as peaceful as Hawaii's sunsets, as mystifying as its Rainbows, sweet as a Ginger Lei, enchanting as the Napali Coast, and as indestructible as the Beauty of these people of Aloha.

Come Charly, let's go Home.

Written by:
Robert Gentile
In honor of his son:

My Little Boy Lost

Little boy lost, your eyes so empty and sad
You revealed the heartache of an impoverished life
A life so tragic, so fragile and profoundly impaired.

Your little boy hands, so helpless, so small
You made trembling gestures of terror
Reminiscent of an indelible childhood fall.

Where had you been my little boy lost?
Which terrible moments did you recall?
Together we would journey a lifetime of despair
Of people and places here and there
Where had you been my little boy lost? Where?

You wandered out of my life
Your plan so precise
Where did you run to my little boy lost?
And for whom did you pay that price?

For all time, my little boy lost
I will remember you with love
I will recall you with yearning
You, Carlos, are my little boy found
The love of my life never returning.

Written by:
Robert Gentile
Father of Carlos
11/01/70 - 12/11/95