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I remember, in 2002, early part of freshman year, in high school. It was Social Studies. In walked Jessica with long black hair, she was so tall. At least what i remember. Every time we talk about her freshman, I always bring up how tall she was, and she always disputes it. Says, ” I was not that tall!”. Looking back now, I know she was that tall. But its like she stopped growing that year. That was the first time I saw Jessica, or JC as I call her. I remember my first car, the first time I drank or even the first time I finally was was able to defend myself against my older sister, she was so big! haha. I go back and look at all the firsts in my life. The ones i can remember, who knows how many there are that I cant remember. I continue to go back to my nephews services, the pastor, or preacher, or guy up front talking, whatever you want to call him, Says, “Griego family, you have some tough times ahead. a lot of firsts.” Now, I dont mean to speak ill of a “Man of God”, but the first thought in my mind was, “FUCK THIS GUY!”. Obviously, he was trying to make a point, and a good one. He says, “Nathaniels first Birthday, is going to be hard, his cousins first birthday party, is going to be hard” and he went on naming event after event, reminding us, that he wont be there. and those will be the firsts. What he didnt mention, Mother’s day. I feel absolutely heart broken for my sister. I feel disgust.  I never, in my entire life, would wish that on anyone. Anyone. As holidays and events in the family come and go, I always can hear that man saying, “there will be firsts, and they will hard.” He was right. in the worse way possible. You ever, after going through it, wish someone was wrong. Thats how i feel. I hate that he was right. I hate that my birthday is in a month, and it will be the first time with my Poppies. I FUCKING HATE IT. If for my birthday, I was granted one wish, just one, it would be for my poppies to come see me in my dreams. Just once. I wont be greedy, just once, for a brief moment. I will take it.



…. Part 2

As the days continue to pass i am faced with many decisons, many thoughts that enter my mind that I cant explain. There was a court hearing this past week. I couldnt go. I told my family it was because ” I dont want to hear that kids excuses.” In reality, I dont trust myself. I am person with a big heart, and that can be a bad thing sometimes. I allow my emotions to get the best of me. To be in a court room, or any room, with the person that took my nephew from us, a child from my sister, a grandchild from my mother, how? How do I, Sanely, sit there. Watch him get comforted by his parents, hugged, kissed, FUCK THAT, I will shoot that motherfucker in his face. I would want to put my hands around his throat and watch the life get sucked out of him. make his family feel the way my family feels, I say feels, because that pain is not going away. It is still there. very much still there. eye for an eye. why not? Then again, Why? Why do I think this way? Why are my thoughts not directed towards healing, peace, love, memories of my nephew? Is that the Devil winning? The Devil in my mind? Putting these thoughts of hate and anger in my heart and in my mind. The hate in my heart is real, burns with fire and there are no signs of the fire being put to rest. Thats why i started writing. or blogging, or whatever this is called. The disappointment i feel is mis directed, the regret i feel is not nessacary, but is it? You know that i dont have a single picture of me and my nephew. WHY!? I have looked for hours. through 20 different facebook profiles, through 3 phone and 2 different memory cards. not 1 fucking picture. how sad. I hate myself. i have pictures of freight from work, pictures of painting and mountains and flowers and animals and cars and odd things i have seen here and there. and not one picture of me and my nephew. un-fucking-believable. Why didnt i make more time for him, to be with him. He came and stayed at the house a couple of times. To baby sit. all i called for was for him to baby sit. not to just come over and hang out. AAAHHHHHHHHHH!  a little to late now. fucking idiot.  I am so diappointed in myself. disgusted seems to be a better word. I took his life for granted. He was a phone call away.  he was supposed to bury me. not the other way around. You know, my sister asked if i could speak at his services, I couldnt. He was supposed to speak at my services. my fucking goodness. I sit here and cry. I cry at work, in the car, at home, i cry in shower, hoping i dont wake up my wife and kids in the morning with me sobbing.

I dont know what i am doing. I dont know how to write a letter, or a blog, or whatever you would call what you are reading. What i do know, is i need something. Anything. to help me. Something to express myself in, to say how i feel. Why i feel it. I hurt. My heart hurts. My nephew, Nathaniel, was taken from us. TRAGICALLY! I remember where i was that night, when i got the call. I remember what i did that day. It was a Friday. It was payday. I remember what i had for dinner. Wingstop. I hate Wingstop, the thought of that place makes me sick to my stomach. WHY!?!?!?!? Because i ate there the day this tragedy happened? Thats kinda stupid, no? But when I think of that place, I think of my Poppie, I was there eating, laughing and smiling, while he was fighting for his life. And i had no clue. I hate fridays, I hate paydays, I hate having a good day. That Friday, I was having a great day. I was starting my vacation. Off for 12 days, only had to use 5 vacation days. ready for my time off. ready to spend time with my family, for the holidays. That’s right, I forgot to mention this happened 2 days before Christmas. I dont want to talk about  what happened to my nephew. It hurts too much. I dont even want to talk about my feelings, my anger or the fact that i hate Fridays. How do i get over this? I know i can, but when, and obviously, how? Nothing can make the passing of my nephew go away, or make it better. The sun still rises and sets. But when does the ease of the pain begin? When does Fridays, or pay days or even good day get better for me? When i sit here and think, that i cant even have a good day….. or that i believe i cant have a good day, is fucking ridiculous. Its bonkers. When i am having a good day, I will be in the car singing, or at home laughing, or at work, working, and then it hits me, “remember the last time you had a day like this, it was so good, then, BAM! a sword of reality right through the heart!” I was going to use “punch to the gut” but i thought i should use something that truly describes the way i felt. The way i feel.