With love, to my family and to my friends, Timber, Jayden, and the GG, Golden, May, Smoke, and all of
thee, keep being free.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Allow me to semi-preface this book by saying this wasn’t the first time
I had experienced a tragedy. Not by a long shot. But I'm saving that
for another time in hopes that you all will want to hear it.
Allow me to also say, as commenters, feel free to comment on certain
parts that make you feel a certain way,
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter One: Good Ol’ Pawpaw
Let me begin by saying that, truthfully, most of us have or have had
awesome grandfathers. They give you things, tell you stories, and,
best of all, give you money! Rest assured that I absolutely mean it
when I say Pawpaw was the most amazing grandfather. I don’t think
anyone else could’ve really been better than him. For starters, he
knew my interests! We always went to Bob Evans, and every time we
left, he’d give me some Hot Wheels or maybe just some money or
cool little things he had as a child.
I never knew he had played guitar. I have a CD that has him playing
some worship music on it! If I could find that old CD player of mine, I'd
listen to it all day, every day. But let’s go into the past. Further into the
past than we are now.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter Two:
Summer of 2019
Gotta say, I never really got the Nintendo Switch right away. I wanted
it, but my parents made me wait two years for it. When did I get it,
though? I started playing that thing like my life depended on it. I was
downstairs charging it and playing Breath of the Wild at the same
time. I was living the dream; it was pure bliss. To me, the Nintendo
Switch was like Jack Black in the Mario Bros. movie. That is, to say
the least, essential.
So, as any kid did, I was playing on my Switch and just chilling
downstairs, beating up a Hynox, chilling in Gerudo Valley, getting all
the Korok Seeds, fighting Ancient Beasts—the list goes on.
And then my parents came down, and so did my sister.
They told me that Pawpaw had hit his head and that they were going
to go help him because he was injured.
I just replied, "Okay." I continued playing Breath of the Wild. Get the
Korok Seeds, fight the Hynox, get the Hylian Shield...
And then reality set in.
Someone I loved was in danger.
I didn’t feel okay.
I wasn’t feeling good.
I felt horrible, like there was some sort of parasite inside me that
wanted to take over my body.
I just kept playing the game to shake the feeling off.
Oh, if only I had really known how bad it was. What was about to
happen? What would happen to me, and how would I feel after
everything that went down on that fateful day?
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 3:
Damn You, Medical System!
I look back on these moments as if they were yesterday.
As if I were a soldier and I had just seen someone get their arms and
legs blown off, or worse, be that person.
Allow me to set the scene.
9 years old, sitting in the hospital room, hearing noises beep, and
playing games on my iPad as my family sat with Pawpaw.
I ignored it. I had to. I couldn’t bear to think of him like this in the
horrors that we call,
Hospice Care.
I don’t think when I was that young I really realized how bad it was. I
just tried to drown out the noises and just play Jetpack Joyride or
Subway Surfers. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was doing
something unhealthy. Something called suppressing your emotions
And, oh boy, was I good at it?
That’s not to say I need a therapist; though I very well could want one
for those occasions where I'm feeling bad, that’s not it at all. It was
that I wish I would've spent more time praying over him and talking to
him, even if he wasn’t feeling well. But that’s what we all wish for, isn’t
it? We collectively, as people, ignore something until it truly needs us,
until it needs our help, or until it is dying. (It’s the only way we know
how to do things outside of doing things right.)
It’s not easy looking back on it now. It’s not easy for some of you to
read this, either. You’ve probably been in a similar situation as I was
years ago. But what did I do? I took time to reassess my needs and
move on from the monotonous cycle of waking up, being sad, going to
school, going home, doing almost nothing, sleeping, and repeating
that cycle, but I'm getting off track.
Allow me to return to what I was saying.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter Four:
Here’s the kicker: (Not.)
I didn’t understand.
I didn’t know.
I couldn’t understand.
I couldn’t have known.
In all fairness, it was better off than I hadn’t back then.
And maybe it's better that I do it now.
Allow me to share a recipe I like to call "unforgettable."
Luscious, red, carpeted floors, wooden walls as white as whiskers,
chairs neatly in a row, nice cold water bottles, an open casket in the
left part of the building, and finally, to bring it all together, one very
confused 9-year-old.
I went outside, I walked around, and I talked to people. I hadn't a clue
what was happening or why I was there; I can't even remember how I
got there.
And then it came time to go.
My family asked if maybe I wanted to say goodbye to Pawpaw.
I walked up to the casket and just simply said, "Bye."
I don’t understand.
I heard them as clear as day.
My sister just jokingly imitated what I said to my mom, saying "Bye."
I still don't know why she did that. I don’t think I ever will.
But I don’t hate her. I never will. She’s my sister.
So then we took our truck, and we just drove somewhere.
Somewhere, I think of a lot.
Somewhere, I pass by sometimes.
We all sat down in chairs, with my family in the front row.
A man stepped up to the podium and started talking about Pawpaw
and how great he was.
It wasn't until then that it finally kicked in.
When I finally realized it—the moment I got it, the moment I truly
understood what it all meant—Pawpaw, the beloved man who brought
joy to everyone, especially me,
was dead.
I tried to hold in my tears so hard; I didn't want people to see me cry. I
wanted to be strong. I kept telling myself that I shouldn’t cry anymore;
I'm grown up now.
Long story short,
it didn’t work.
All I remember after that is that I swapped places with a friend of
mom’s at the end of the row.
We went home.
I went to my room.
I didn’t understand; how could I? When I was only 9, I only thought
animals died, not people.
I didn’t talk to anyone when I went to school on Monday.
I didn’t talk to my friends.
I didn’t tell anyone that I was sad.
I didn’t even have anyone to help me because they would just all tell
me that either “life happens” or “that sucks."
No one would have understood me.
I'm still not quite sure anyone can, even now.
Even if someone had experienced something like I have,
it doesn’t matter anymore.
There’s much more than one way to have feelings.
And for the past five years, somehow, I don't think I’ve been doing it
right.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter Five:
What happened after?
Since then, you’d imagine I've changed.
Changed to care less about death.
Changed to be stronger as a "man."
The only thing that did it for me?
It scared me even more about life.
Ever since then, I've sometimes been forced to be awake, thinking
about how eventually the same fate will befall everyone I know.
But I'm 14 now.
I’ve had time to think.
I’ve had emotional breakdowns.
I’ve had time to be sad.
I’ve had time to realize something.
I’ve come all this way; I've fought through death, I've fought through
insults, I've fought through people I know nearly dying, and I've fought
through many things.
And it’d be pointless not to try to at least enjoy life once in a while.
Death happens; it’s going to happen to everyone some day.
Insults happen; people will berate you for your looks anyway.
Suicide’s an issue, but it doesn’t have to make you say, Life doesn’t
matter either way. ”
You can be sick or healthy,
weak or strong. The thing I best like about you is that you get things
wrong.
I don’t care if you’re smart; I don’t care if you’re dumb. If you’ll just be
here with me,
then our lives are not done.
Not here nor there,
nor will they be anywhere.
Through death, we persist,
and past death, we will too.
Life might be pissed,
but I know I am too.
I might be sad,
and that’s okay.
Because at least I'm glad that I'm alive today.
You could kill yourself.
And while that’s true,
your friends and family,
and especially me,
would love to see you right here with me.
To smoke, that goes out. I love you, honey.
And to all of my friends: keep being funny.
—-------------------------------------------------------------Written by Gameboy Color.
Published by the same person.
Something like an autobiography, but not really.
Sincerely, Time.
—--------------------------------------------------------------