Can You Relate?

Entry #2

Please don't ask about Dylan for this entry, because it's still 4 in the morning of the same day, so nothing happened yet. Thank you for those who are worried and care. I honestly really appreciate it. There's just nothing I can do right now to get my mind off of it besides ranting about my other problems or experiences, so here goes.

When you see me write about something to do with my parents, I'm usually, depending on the subject, referring to my mom and my step-dad. Why? Simple. My daddy is dead.

As you know, I'm 16. I lost my daddy when I was 12 years old. Is it sad that the fact that he's dead doesn't hurt more than the reason why he died? Let me explain.

He died on April 25, 2014. The Sunday a few days before his death was Easter. I remember having my hair done and wearing a dress, which I don't usually do, so we could go to church, my Grammy Val, younger sister named Neila, me and my daddy, Lamont. I don't usually go to church either, but I don't mind going on Easter, since there's usually free food and drinks there. Sorry if that offends some of you, but that's how I am.

Anyways, it was a decent day, until evening hit. Around 7-8pm, some of our adult cousins were over Grammy Val's house, smoking, drinking and laughing like maniacs on the front porch. Pretty sure many of you will say you know family or friends who's like that.

I heard that they were leaving, so I ran to the door and stopped Daddy from leaving.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" He asked with a beer bottle in his hand.

"Daddy, you know that you shouldn't drink and drive. People die from car accidents from doing that." I was worried about his safety, and I didn't trust that he won't do something stupid.

"Alright CoCo, I won't drink and drive."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now come here."

I gave him a hug goodbye and his gave me a kiss on my forehead, then left with our cousins. I was still worried and didn't trust him, but I figured that he would keep his promise so I should have faith in him.

I made him text me the next morning to make sure he was okay, since I went home to my mom's house. I stayed with my mom, the man who's now my step-dad named Glenn, Neila, Kaila, and my other step-sister named Nania.

My parents, Mama and Daddy, were separated for most of my life. Daddy pretty much abandoned me when I was three years old to go party, smoke, drink and drive, and cheat on my mom with other woman. Even though that's not a good thing and I'm not trying to defend him, I can understand his situation.

Mama and Daddy had me when they were still in high school. My mom was 16, and my dad was 17. They weren't trying to have a child because they used protection, but that's what happens when you have sex. There's always a chance to get pregnant.

Some of you are saying: But what about birth control pills? Or condoms? Or whatever else you come up with.

Let me tell you all something. Birth control pills can only decrease your chances of getting pregnant down to 10% at the lowest. There's still no guarantee that you won't go baby-free after having your virgina disturbed by someone's penis.

And with condoms, you can't always trust that a guy knows how to put them on correctly, which is sad, since it's very straight-forward on how to use. Plus, not all guys know that they should switch a condom out for a new one after each round, so they don't tear a whole into one from wearing it out too much. That's one of the main causes for females getting pregnant even if the dude said he used protection.

How do I know this? I pay attention in health class, lots of it is just common sense or general information and I've had doctors explain this to me when I go to a doctor's appointment for my period. Am I pregnant? Hell no. Am I a virgin? Of course I am, and I'll go more into that later.

Anyways, that's why my parents ended up having me, a mistake or unfortunate accident that kept them from having the lives that they dreamed of having. Am I having thoughts about why I was brought to this world? All of the time. Do I regret being born because of being a hindrance to Mama and Daddy? Not at all, because they shouldn't have had sex, if they weren't prepared to have a child. That's what they get. I'm their life-long punishment.

I seem to keep getting off topic. Let's move back on to his death.

Friday morning, five days after Easter, I was awoken at 6am by my Grammy Monica with Neila. I was shocked and had no idea what was going on. I was wondering why they woke me up so early to get ready for school when I didn't have to get up until 7:45am, which is a dream to me now since I wake up at 5am to go to high school. Sometimes, I miss going to elementary school, but then I think about how much I can't stand little kids, then I think.... nevermind.

We were told to go to the living room, where I found Grammy Val, Mama, my Aunt Aleiyah, and some people I didn't know the names of, but knew that they were in my family or my family's friends.

Y'all already know what happened. They told us that our father passed away in a car accident last night. Some people break down as soon as they hear about someone's death.

I didn't. In my mind, I looked around and saw how much pain everyone in the room was in, even Mama. Just because they haven't been together, doesn't mean she didn't still care for him. I know she did, and she still does.

My mind was going all over the place again, which it does very often, usually throughout the day. I was thinking things like "Look at them. They need someone to be strong for them. That was your dad, but you know he'd want you to be strong for them, to be strong for Neila." So that's what I did.

I let them cry on my shoulder. I pulled them into hugs, and let them talk it out of their systems. I wasn't bothered by that. I was bothered whenever they say, "Oh you just like Lamont" or "Lamont #2" or "You know who you remind me of? Lamont."

Every chance they get, every conversation, it was like they didn't see me as LaCole anymore. It was always Lamont. They would always bring him up when I didn't want to think about him or talk about him. I wanted to move on. Easier said than done when people won't stop bringing his name up.

Everyone in the family started thinking that I didn't care about Daddy, or that his death didn't phase me. They didn't know that I cried by myself when I was in my room alone, or in the shower. Just thinking about how to accept the fact that I'll never see him again.

A week after his death, his wake and funeral occurred. On his wake, we got to see the body, his body, Daddy's corpse.

I couldn't act tough this time. When I walked up to his body, and saw his bruised looking face with his eyes closed, eyelids appeared to be swollen.

I broke down at the sight. I thought I could handle seeing his corpse knowing that he's dead, but I couldn't stop my eyes from leaking tears down my cheeks.

I laid my head down gently on his chest, even though he couldn't feel it since he's dead, I didn't care. I was hoping that he would open his eyes, knowing that it was impossible for him to do so. I didn't understand why this had to happen.

People talk about fate and destiny. About how God takes people back home when their time comes. That's not what I needed to hear. Why must I have to suffer like this with my loved ones, because God was being impatient from not having Daddy's company yet, so he took him away from me at that time? You think I'm going to believe or feel the same way about this as you? Hell no, because I think for myself, and not let some book tell me how I should see the world. I think for myself.

Sorry for those of you who are religious who took offense to this, but that's how I felt, and how I feel now. I'm not religious. I'm not trying to down any of you for believing in God, so don't down my beliefs either.

That was one of the turning points for my personality in these 16 years of life so far.

That's enough for this entry.

Can you relate?

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