There are two men on Death Row in Bali. For making drugs a part of their life and of others’, they might now face the firing squad any day.
Two men who were once little children, with a gap in their teeth, blowing out candles on a cake, being hugged and loved and cherished.
They had a family, loves, jobs and a decent life, and for some reason, none of it was enough.
Their idea of fun and extra money on the side was different from the ordinary man’s. They took this interpretation of life and fun to Bali 10 years ago, on a trip they might never return from if they go before the firing squad.
They were once children, tousled hair, impish grins.
They had parents who now grieve in the madness of Why-s and What-ifs. In one part of the world, boys-now-men trying to live the remainder of their lives well in a Bali jail; in another part, old and broken parents seeing the worst-yet-to-come just over the horizon.
Turn back the clock, turn back the clock, A part of them must scream. Give us back our children and their childhood. Give us back birthdays and candles and teaching moments. Give us back the thousands upon thousands of missed opportunities to love. Give us this second chance, loved ones cry.
Mourn with them, pray for them but let that lament never be ours.