I Am A Single Soul

To feel closer to him, his family and friends started to gather together to do activities he enjoyed. As part of this I got to experience many things I would likely have never done before, such as going 'mudding'. Which, from what I gathered, is basically running through the mud in various types of vehicles pretending you are in the car chase of a movie. I was also convinced to fire a shotgun for the first time. I cannot help but feel if he were there he would have been slightly disappointed I was not knocked over from the kick, as that would have been his type of

As retired grandfather he lives for his family and for his memories back in the good ol days. He lives with my uncle, Julio and his family in San Salvador, El Salvador. Everytime I go vist him or him vistit me, he tells me stories about his past. Sometime he tells me stories about my father when he was a

Well, here I am. I’m at Yokeman Regional Medical Center. Thanks to the skull fracture and the sprain on my leg, I’ll be here for a bit. They gave me just the right amount of pain medication so it’s just a numbing feeling. I’m expected to do some physical therapy for a bit after the release me. I feel fine, relieved actually that this is all over. It’s been four days since that horrible night where my old science teacher tried to kill me. Speaking of which, I had a nice talk with my mom about her past this morning, and how it almost got me killed. Now, she refuses to leave my side. Randy is in jail, not the local jail, he got transported to the big house in Phoenix. The rotting corpses, and the bodies from the old church, only one of them died, but it was all overdose. Randy was growing the mushrooms in the church and giving them out to the people who were willing enough to join his little cult. He created that cult in memory of Robin, not the one he killed, but the one he remembered from High School. You

everyone feels alone at some points in life and they feel like no one understands them. The

He would give his last dime in order to make me happy. We use to go to rodeos and fairs when I was much younger and he would make sure that I got everything that I wanted. He used to drop me to school and wait for me after sport practices. We would laugh at anything and everything. My uncle taught me almost everything I know from fishing by the lake to driving a truck on the highway. We would even go to church on Sunday and pray for him to be detached from his addition. He was my go to guy and then somewhere along the way he started drinking uncontrollably. He would then get arrested and have to go through treatment centers. He was a tormented spirit trying to deal with all his past choices and the consequences. He never seemed to get a break, always falling and having to pull himself out of one hole after another. He would say, “I can stop drinking anytime and I want to stop,” and there were times he did, but those times never lasted because when he would not drink, he had to deal with all of the thoughts going through his head. Coping with life was not a skill that he ever acquired. Uncle Louis would tell me how hard it was at these treatment centers and the many restrictions that would be placed upon him. He could barely talk to family and he always had lessons to complete. He could never get out of those places quick

My uncle ray loved telling jokes, he had very funny corny jokes. He was also very shy, but outgoing to his own friends and family, and that's the uncle ray I remember. There are many memories I have of him, one is the time he helped me play the guitar. I was stringing the guitar on the couch, and he helped me string it and play a few notes. He looked up

I come from a big family with many loving aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. As I was standing there all alone I thought back to the time when I got to spend a week with Fran. Almost a year ago to the date, most of the family was together for my other uncle's wedding. All the cousins sat at the same table and we had such a good time together. He was a busy person, he

Some of my favorite moments with my grandfather were how we always did everything together. I was glad I lived with my grandparents. Stuff with my actual family weren’t the best, because they thought they couldn’t handle me. My grandfather and I had so much fun throughout the years. We enjoyed going for ice cream the most. We always had the same ice cream every once in a while, but occasionally we would change it up a little. We usually grabbed chocolate ice cream for a treat, but sometimes we would decide we want a twist ice cream. I loved spending time with my grandfather.

One of the earliest memories I have of my father is when he would take me to the park and we would play baseball. My father was eager to teach me everything he knew about the game, and I was eager to learn. He took it easy on me at first, allowing me to overcome my fear of being hit by the ball. Each time we went back to the park he would throw the ball a little harder. It was not long

The few times we did get to spend time together as a family, it wouldn’t feel like it. I knew all the relationships between my family members. I was the one who they told everything to but ask me not to tell anyone. This was a lot of weight on my shoulders because I began caring for everyone else’s relationships; especially my mom’s because my brother and sister would argue

I distinctly remember the weeknights at his house. Sitting upon his lap, walking down the street, getting pulled in my wagon through a park--these were things I loved doing with Grandpa. I was not just another person to him: I was the ultimate grandson, and I was special.

For many people, Grandpa is a storyteller, someone to go fishing with, and someone who has your back no matter what. The experience I had with my grandpa was a little different. I never got the opportunity to meet my great-grandfather Liston Grider, but he still somehow managed to have a huge impact on my life. Sometimes my mom would tell stories about him; happy memories from her childhood, sad ones that were painful for her to tell, and everything in between. I thought I had heard it all, but this past summer I learned something about my great grandpa that would perhaps impact my life forever. This story was not told by my mom like usual, but by someone who was a complete stranger to me. The lessons I learned would not be taught in a single day, but over the span of a month through a series of Facebook messages and letters in the mail. The words I read upon opening those messages and letters would change my life forever, permanently transform my beliefs, and show me what it truly means to be an American.

But on July 26, 2016, my family finally felt whole again. Towards the end of the summer, we decided to spend our last few weeks of summer in New York, our hometown. The day prior to leaving for our vacation, my mom decided to try one last time to reach out to Melonie, hoping to finally see my cousin after eleven years. Her message read, “Hello Melonie, we are coming to New York this week and would love to see Brian after all this time”. Within minutes we received her response of yes! It was like a dream come true, we could not wrap our minds around the fact that we were going to finally reconnect with the piece we have been missing for so long.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.

My mother relocated to Birmingham, Alabama my first year of high school seeking a better life. Apparently, my father started to miss having his family because he went from being a “ghost father” to a “pop up father”. My father was here one moment and gone the next; he was constantly in and out of our lives. Initially, my classmates scrutinized and ridiculed me for having a fatherless household. I felt destitute and powerless. I needed to find someone or something to influence me in a better way by helping me change from a boy into a man. I became a recluse, never interacting with anyone.