I Hate Bad News
I know it's a long read, but I have to tell someone.
In 17 hours it will have been one year since I read an article that turned my world upside down, and then made a phone call that completely tore it to shreds. On December 17, 2017, my dad was arrested for some really serious charges (improper handling of a gun in a motor vehicle, having a weapon under disability, carry multiple concealed weapons without a permit, etc.). And I know that in that particular instant, he was only carrying those weapons because he was receiving death threats from a motorcycle club that he did NOT testify against, even though they killed two of my uncles and tried to him and another uncle on Father's Day in 2016. He named the shooters, which was enough to basically sign his death warrant. So, he started carrying weapons to protect himself because the law couldn't. Not from this. I didn't know he had been arrested until I read an article about it on December 19. I was only worried about Christmas. I've missed Christmas with him before because he was locked up for things I can't even try to defend, and I didn't want to miss another.
So when I tried calling my grandma to get some answers, and my great-aunt answered the phone, I knew something was really wrong. Especially when the first thing she said to me after I asked "What's going on" was "How do you know about your grandfather?" I thought I was going to melt. While my dad was sitting in jail, and I was at work (Walmart), my grandfather, who had been battling stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to his brain, was lying in a hospital bed, declared brain dead. A few hours earlier he had three aneurysms burst simultaneously. He never had a chance. I went back inside to work and sunk against the back wall in the deli and broke down.
It's been a year. And my dad is still in prison. And I still call my grandfather's phone asking him questions about my car before I remember I'll never get a call back. I just graduated with my BA degree and neither of them could be there. My heart is still breaking, I'm still trying to glue the pieces back together, and I'm still trying to fight my own inner demons. It feels like a losing battle most days, but I'm trying really hard. Because I hate bad news. And I don't want to be the next bad news my family gets.
In 17 hours it will have been one year since I read an article that turned my world upside down, and then made a phone call that completely tore it to shreds. On December 17, 2017, my dad was arrested for some really serious charges (improper handling of a gun in a motor vehicle, having a weapon under disability, carry multiple concealed weapons without a permit, etc.). And I know that in that particular instant, he was only carrying those weapons because he was receiving death threats from a motorcycle club that he did NOT testify against, even though they killed two of my uncles and tried to him and another uncle on Father's Day in 2016. He named the shooters, which was enough to basically sign his death warrant. So, he started carrying weapons to protect himself because the law couldn't. Not from this. I didn't know he had been arrested until I read an article about it on December 19. I was only worried about Christmas. I've missed Christmas with him before because he was locked up for things I can't even try to defend, and I didn't want to miss another.
So when I tried calling my grandma to get some answers, and my great-aunt answered the phone, I knew something was really wrong. Especially when the first thing she said to me after I asked "What's going on" was "How do you know about your grandfather?" I thought I was going to melt. While my dad was sitting in jail, and I was at work (Walmart), my grandfather, who had been battling stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to his brain, was lying in a hospital bed, declared brain dead. A few hours earlier he had three aneurysms burst simultaneously. He never had a chance. I went back inside to work and sunk against the back wall in the deli and broke down.
It's been a year. And my dad is still in prison. And I still call my grandfather's phone asking him questions about my car before I remember I'll never get a call back. I just graduated with my BA degree and neither of them could be there. My heart is still breaking, I'm still trying to glue the pieces back together, and I'm still trying to fight my own inner demons. It feels like a losing battle most days, but I'm trying really hard. Because I hate bad news. And I don't want to be the next bad news my family gets.
26-30, F
