Reckless Love

I want you to know Brett's heart —
not what his struggle looked like from the outside,
not the frailty or the crutch
or the counselors crying at his intake —

I want you to know what lived
underneath all of that,
constant and unshakeable,
the thing that was always true:

he loved people recklessly.

Not reckless like careless.
Reckless like uncalculated.
Like he didn't stop to measure
whether you deserved it first.
Like he saw you —
really saw you —
before you gave him
a single reason to.

That's the part the struggle never touched.
That part was always whole.

I walked into that rehab
with walls built on purpose.
Told God, told myself —
don't engage, don't connect,
do the work and go home.

Three days I kept it.
Three days the walls held.

On the fourth day
something in my chest moved
before my head did —
I looked to the right
toward the smoke pit
and there he was.

Frail. Crutch. Barely holding.

And he cracked open
every wall I built
without even trying.

That's reckless love.
It doesn't ask permission.
It just finds the cracks
and walks right through.

Forty days. Sixteen hours a day.
What takes years on the outside
took weeks in there.

Sixteen years between us.
Not one of them mattered.

Because our bond wasn't chosen.
It wasn't sought.
It was family.

And family — chosen or not —
comes with a love that is raw and real.

Not cartwheels and rose petals.
Raw.
And real.

And sometimes that rawness
is the whole point.

Day three he looked at me
the way only a young man
with old eyes looks at anything —
certain,
unbothered by logic —
and said:

I already know you're gonna love my mom.
And she's gonna love you too.

I paced that hallway more than once
just to pass the small square window
on the wooden door —
trying to catch a glimpse
of a woman I hadn't met yet
that this broken kid on a crutch
had already decided
was mine.

He wasn't wrong
about a single thing.

He drove me to the land.

I had been telling God for years —
Father, I've got everything you gave me.
I just don't have the property.

And every time the answer felt the same —
Don't worry about the property.
Keep preparing. Keep praying.

Then one day Brett said
just drive
and pulled me off a highway
into thirty wooded acres
that belonged to his mother
and to him.

I'm not even joking a little bit, he said.

That's reckless love.
Giving you the thing you need most
before you finished asking.

Weeks before his last breath
he sat in our living room
and named something true
that had been waiting to be named —

This is the first time in my life
I've felt like I had a home.

Not dramatic. Not performing.
Just giving us something to hold
after he was gone.

I was two hours away
on his sister's wedding day
when something in my spirit
would not let me be still.

I called him.
Told him I was coming
before he could answer —
I'm on my way, Brett.
I'm taking you to River Oaks.

I started loading my car.

Thirty minutes later
the phone rang.

Your son is gone.

What do you mean gone —
I'm already coming —

No.

Gone.

I had to hold that alone.
Had to carry it
the two hours home.

She was back from the wedding.
Thought I surprised her —
joy all over her face,
something good arriving early.

I put my head down.

She knew
without one word.

That was the hardest night.
Maybe of both our lives.

The thirty acres is still there.
The vision is still alive —
heavier now,
more necessary now
than the day he drove me to it.

His name goes on it when it's built.
That was never a question.

Because there are souls in this world
who look exactly like Brett looked
walking into that smoke pit.

Frail. Crutch. Counselors in tears.

And the whole world sees the struggle
and stops right there.

Brett never stopped there.
Not with me.
Not with anyone he loved.

We are still trying to build the place
that doesn't stop there either.

For Brett.
For every broken soul on a crutch
who needs someone
to look to the right.

Reckless love.
That's all of him.
That's enough.

I walked in with a plan…
to feel nothing
to connect with nobody
Told God… told myself…
just do the time and go home
Three days in…
mission still intact
Then something in my spirit
said look to the right

I don't say gratitude 'cause it sound good in a caption
I say it 'cause I've seen life break… without asking
Walked in with walls I built on purpose
Didn't come to feel nothing… just didn't wanna surface

Day four… basketball court… something pulled my chest
Smoke pit to the right… frail… crutch… counselors distressed
That broke-down soul on a tiny tim crutch
Is the one God used to say…
your plan ain't enough

Forty days… sixteen hours… what takes years happened in weeks
When you see a man at his bottom…
something in you speaks
Sixteen years between us… not one of them mattered
'Cause reckless love don't calculate…
it just finds you… then scatters

Reckless love…
don't ask if you deserve it first
Reckless love…
finds you at your worst
Not cartwheels… not rose petals…
raw and real and true
That's what Brett had…
that's what he gave to you

At the end of the day…
give me Gratitude & Grace
Not control… not pride…
just the strength to face
What I can't change…
what I had to embrace
Reckless love…
is what carried me through

Day three he looked at me… certain as prayer
Said I already know you gonna love my mama…
and she gonna love you… I swear
I'm pacing hallways just to see her through a small square window
A woman I ain't meet yet… that this kid already know

He said drive… pulled off the highway into thirty wooded acres
His mama's land… his land…
God's answer to my prayers sir
I'd been telling God… Father I got everything but the ground
Brett took me straight to it…
without me making a sound

Weeks before his last breath…
he sat in our living room
Said this the first time in my life…
I felt like I had a home… the truth
That's reckless love…
giving you the thing you needed most
Before you even knew…
you needed it the most

I was two hours away on his sister's wedding day
When something in my spirit…
wouldn't let me stay
Called him… told him I'm coming before he could answer
Car loaded… thirty minutes…
then the phone rang after

— silence —

Your son is gone
I said what you mean gone… I'm already on my way
He said no…

(hold it — full bar — don't move)

Gone

Had to carry that alone
Had to drive it home to her
She thought I surprised her…
joy all over her face first
I put my head down

(full bar — don't rush this)

She knew…
without one word said

Reckless love…
don't stop when the breathing does
Reckless love…
outlives every one of us
The land is still there…
the vision's still alive
We carry him in it…
every day we survive

At the end of the day…
give me Gratitude & Grace
His name on that building…
his heart in that place
What I can't change…
what I had to embrace
Reckless love…
is what carried me through

He said…
this the first time I felt like I had a home
He said…
this the first time I felt like I had a home

The land is still there
The vision still stands
We build it for Brett…
and every broken soul who can

Reckless love…
Reckless love…