The Social Distance

It’s November and the sidewalks are bombarded with beautiful red, yellow, and orange leaves. I was walking down Buckhead Avenue heading home when I felt my phone start to vibrate, it's my Uncle. I haven't heard from him since the funeral, I decide not to answer. I receive a text from my Father a few moments later. "Hey Son, I'm flying to California" He will be in rehab. Not for physical therapy though, this time it would be for alcoholism. My first response, for how long? He responds he does not know. It feels like a blow to the chest. This news affects me way more than I expect it to. I did not know that it was that bad. He was a big part of why I moved back to Georgia. I'm inspired to look into some therapy for myself when I get back to the house. A good therapist would do some good right now. I've only had one before. She no doubt supported me in leaving my longest-term relationship which I still have regrets about to this day. By our last session, she was telling me her problems. I never saw another therapist after that. Since I'm in Atlanta I thought that finding a therapist who understands the adult black gay man's thought process couldn't be that hard but it is. I google-searched every black male therapist with a specialization in LGBTQ. Even the therapist I could get in contact with had a waiting list. Appointments had to be booked several weeks in advance. By then I could empty a bottle of tequila and let the ancestors handle it. Later that night my Father text me again "Hey Son, are you ok?" Oddly, he has never asked me that before I reply "yea why what's up?" He says he received a strange message and wasn't sure what it was. I asked him to forward it to me. The first text message starts with my Grandmother's full name, current address, and closest relatives. The second text was a lengthy message explaining that if they didn't get the money they were owed that they would see to it that his family would pay the cost. Following are two photos of a decapitated man. One of his body and one of his head. My mouth drops open. Neither my brain nor my heart comprehends what is in front of me. I've never seen a picture like this before. I can't tell if it's real but it looks real non the less. My heart is pounding. I'm instantly in shock. My father asked me to call my Grandmother to check on her, I do then she asked me to call my Aunt, I did and my Aunt asked me to forward her the message before deciding to call the police. My Aunt tells me I have to take this seriously. "You have to protect yourself." That statement rings over and over again in my head. My father thinks we're overreacting, he says that he spoke to his brother and his wife and that they think that it's just spam... My mind is buzzing. Why did I move back here? What did I get myself into?