I was only 11 when dad died. I remember that day clearly because it was also the day I died. Metaphorically speaking of course. That entire day was anything but right. I got to school late, I had friendship problems, going back home the block I lived on smell made me want to vomit. I knew something was up the moment I step inside grandma room to greet her. All my siblings were there, lining up next to each other with grim faces. They were all tense and the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. I didn't like it and as soon as grandma opened her mouth, I knew the worst was yet to come.
Thinking back on it I really didn't handle it very well. I mean who can handle the news of a dear one passing? By the time grandma finished telling me, everything was gone. Every thought, every emotion, every physical feeling. My whole body was numb and I didn't even register when I had fallen. But I did and my brother caught me.
"Jay you're ok. We gonna be ok" Meek whispered.
I remember thinking he should really shut up and get off me. I didn't want anybody touching me. I just wanted to die.
He was my inspiration for everything. He knew me best, without him I was nothing. When I said I didn't handle it well, I meant I didn't handle it at all. I started slacking off, not really being myself. I tried to ignore the presence of my siblings but they were a constant reminder that he wasn't there. Getting over death was a hard life choice and it affected how I interacted with people. For example my school years. I never was one to shy away from people but I develop a habit of being a lone wolf. I hated everything about school, I mean who didn't right?
Before I was ready to take on the world, my mornings were nothing but sluggish and slow. Every morning I would wake up around 4:00 am to prepare what I needed for school then listen to music and wait for the morning song grandma always sung to fill the house, she was trying to keep everyone spirits up bless her soul.
Instead of the "normal" teenage cravings like seeing my friends and hearing the latest piece of gossip, my thoughts immediately went to "I don't want to go! I want to stay home and never leave." Dad was a big fan of old music. He use to rock out on his dj set and the vibrations on each song filled the whole house. It was our own little but loud party. The neighbors really didn't like it. But he really didn't care. So it was no surprise I turned to music and it was really the only thing that kept my nerves in check, without it I wouldn't have found the strength to move from my bed.
But as I grew older I realize not only music can keep me in check. My high school life was just the beginning of breaking my lone wolf days and it was annoying but fun.
