Exactly twelve years ago to the day, my parents were killed by a drunk driver. From what I remember about them, both were extremely hard working individuals who put their family above all else. My dad was a rising attorney within the local district magistrate's office and my mom was a full time kindergarten teacher. Even though both were very busy, they always made sure to attend all my little league games baseball, school functions and my sisters dance recitals. I remember my dad being one of those typical obnoxious fathers who attended my baseball games, always cheering me on and yelling at the officiating crew every time a call didn't go my way. Mom used to always try to tone down his enthusiasm, but I was so happy to have them both there that I never cared that he was so rambunctious.
After he was gone, the passion that I used to have for sports slowly started to fade away. It was no longer the same without my parents there giving me constant support. Aunt Tia and the girls did their best to make me feel supported, but it just never was the same. Don't get me wrong, having the girls there meant the world to me, but no one can ever truly replace your parents. The same could be said of my sister and how she treated her dance recitals. After the death of our parents, she too lost interest and seemed to just wonder aimlessly for a while before discovering her passion for playing the flute. Whereas the band became her way of dealing with the loss of our parents, I often found myself in the gym.
Since their deaths I had made an effort to come to their grave every year on the anniversary of their death. Often times I end up coming by myself, but occasionally my sister would tag along. The head stone is nothing special; it simply reads my parents names, their date of births and the day they both died. I don't want to say we lucked out, because well my parents were dead, it is a horrible way to describe what happened, but we were somehow able to purchases two burial plots side by side so that they could always be together. At the time, when my Aunt was struggling to support us, being able to purchase the two burial plots was almost considered a miracle, especially with the cost associated with the purchase. I remember thinking about how unfair it was that they were no longer a part of our lives, about how they had tragically been taken from us. Two amazing parents who had their lives were stolen from them. They were forced to abandon their two children, and now all that remains of them is a head stone that has no real defining characteristics. If I hadn't known where they had been buried, it is highly unlikely that I could have ever found where they were laid to rest. The world would have never known the tragedy of their loss.
On this particular visit, all I could think about was whether or not they would be proud of me. While it might seem like a weird practice to you; I still talk to my parents every time I visit them. Whenever I am there, I have a need to let them know about everything that is going on in mine and my sister's lives. Even though they are gone, they will always be my mom and dad. Aunt Tia is my new mom, and I love her with all my heart for everything that she and done and sacrificed for Maura and I, but she will never truly replace them.
A few days ago it would have been just your typical schools going well, I am staying out of trouble, nothing too major to report type of conversation, but now my whole world was upside down. Not upside in the sense that things were whirl-winding out of control, but upside down in the sense that I was romantically involved with my cousin Kara. We were attempting to hide it from the rest of my family. Even now, as I stood before my parents, I was hesitant to tell them about Kara. I knew that they would love me no matter what, but still, it was my Cousin Kara who had captured my heart.
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After shaving, a process that took about twenty minutes to do the full face and head completely, and I showered before getting dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Seeing the time, I raced over to the dining hall to meet Jenelle.
I felt nervous going into this meal for two main reasons. First, I had not told Kara about what happened before she attacked me/made my dreams come true, and secondly, Kara and I never really discussed whether or not we were an exclusive couple. I mean I wasn't planning on trying to juggle several different women around, for truth be told ,all I wanted was Kara. However, I was still nervous and curious as to why Jenelle wanted to see me. Honestly, I was surprised that she even wanted to talk to me. I mean, how do you confront someone/have a conversation with the guy that saw you drink so much that you had to go to the hospital to have you stomach pumped? Having never been in that situation before, even though now I was about to be in the receiving end of one such conversation, I could barely imagine the difficultly and courage that it must take for one to even begin. I also began to wonder if Seth, her brother and my friend who I had let down, would be attending the meal with us.
As my mind raced in a million different directions, I walked into the dining hall, half expecting to be jumped by Seth. I had disgraced his sister; honestly I wouldn't have blamed him if he publicly kicked my ass. It would have sent a message to all the other guys on campus that his sister was not to be treated so poorly. To my relief Seth wasn't there. Oddly, I felt somewhat disappoint that he did not in fact kick my ass.
It actually took me a few seconds of looking around before I was able to locate Jenelle. She had isolated herself in the far back corner of the mess hall, dressed casually in a pair of sweatpants with a long sleeve shirt and a pair of large black glasses that covered a majority of her face. I could instantly tell that she was still feeling the effects of last night. My own liver had always been able to distill my alcohol consumption so that I rarely, if ever woke up with a hangover, but just by looking at Jenelle, I could tell that she might need the assistance of a trash can at any minute. All the more astonishing, even though I could tell she felt like crap, she still looked beautiful. I started to wonder if maybe she was one of those girls that could look good no matter what she wore; like if she was only wearing a trash bag she would still make it look elegant, like she was wearing an evening gown.
