I've never wanted to become grown up. Never ever.
I've always wanted to be a kid. I have taken on responsibility but I've never had to deal with death. Especially someone close to me... family I actually knew.
I would take care of my business, and be a kid after that. I'm 22 right now. In 16 days I turn 23.
23... sounds... grown up.
I can't look at high school girls anymore...
when the fuck did this happen?
Sure.. I can drink... buy firearms... etc..
But I never felt grown up. I always stayed a kid because everyone would still be there. My grand parents, my parents, uncles, aunts etc.. they would always be there. Always. Death happened, but only on TV, happened down my street, happened to the lady at the quick stop that said my band played really loud when we would take a break from playing in my garage band and run to the store for food and drink. She was killed by a mass murderer in my town, he hit 3 stores and a tow truck driver killing everyone in there. Down the street where I lived. Garage band? Shit.. High School...
Death happened to other people, happened on TV and such.
Today the sweetest man to have ever lived passed away.
My Grandfather Joe Roacha. He was more of a father to me than my own father.
I got my job at IBM and needed a new car that would last the commute. Well I needed money for a down payment. Up and gave me $1000.
I didn't ask for it, just gave it to me. When I tried to pay him back since I thought it was a loan he got pissed at me.
I haven't spoken to my wife beater, cheater piece of shit father in 6 years. But here was my grandpa that talked to me, wished me luck, gave me money.
He was always so happy. Had a smile, fun guy. Everyone loved him. Had tons of friends. "Oh Joe? what a great guy!"
People like this don't die. No they do not...
What a fuckin child I am.
I am American because of my grandpa. In 1957 he brought his family of 3 from Portugal to America. My mom was 2, I went to the same high school as she did. My Aunt was 3 years after my mom, then later my uncle Joey Jr.
My grandpa got a job milking cows on a dairy. Worked his damn ass off for his family. Learned fluent English without an accent very fast. Always a hard worker. Worked hard so his family didn't have to.
I told him all this in his final hours...
This morning I was woken up by my mom. She came over crying her eyes out and told me my grandpa had 24 to 48 hours.
I find it very hard to show any of my emotions. Especially ones that hurt this much. It was hard... but I held his hand and told him I was proud he was my grandpa and that I hope I grow up to be just like him. I want to be a man like my grandpa was. Someone people love and respect.
I saw him a week before. He was in his bed, sitting up. He looked sick... very sick.. he grabbed my hand and smiled at me. We talked awhile.. he drank a milk shake.
I stayed around the house today... thinking my grandpa was ok.. just last week he looked alright.
I go over later today..