This story is from a chapter about my family and growing up:
In past chapter I’ve brushed upon how my life was normal at one point. In this chapter I will be getting more in depth into my childhood days and my family. To cut a long story short, my parents ARE my parents but not biologically. The biological aspect of the situation does not mean shit to me, my parents are my parents. I was adopted at birth because my biological parents were 16 years of age and not fit to raise a child. They were bigger pieces of shit at age 16 than i am in chapter 1 alone. That’s where that part of me comes from. My parents are incredible people, my father was a Navy Corpsman for 11 years and was a combat vet who served in Desert Storm. He is a strong man who is good at everything he does, and you will never meet another man like him. He is a tall man, yet a gentle person, who is a very loving, and caring person. My mother who is nothing short of incredible like my dad, was a nurse for 15 years when I was born and is still a nurse today. She is also incredible, and loving and gentle, and great at everything she does like sewing, crafting, building projects, taking care of people, and communicating. She is from Louisiana like me and my father is from Iowa. My father’s parents are incredible people as well; my grandparents. My mother’s parents passed away before I was born and I never got to meet them, as much as I wish I could have. My dad has 2 brothers, my uncles, and my mother has over 11 brothers and sisters, I lost count. Every single person in my family is nothing short of incredible, and I will give you examples of what my childhood was like and why I hate myself so much for damaging the fabric of my relationship with these incredible people.
A brief example:
We lived on the border of Cherry Hill and Marlton New Jersey in a very quaint neighborhood. The homes were all built in the 80’s, Our house in that neighborhood was my favorite house we ever lived in. We lived in a cul-de-sac with 8 other homes. We were friends with all of our neighbors except for the halfway house across the street (imagine that). Our house had a tree in the front yard, and a very large backyard, the fence was lined with tall pine trees. There was a garden, and a patio as well. It was truly a beautiful home to raise a family in. Our household was comprised of Me, My Mom, and My Dad and our collie Grace. Grace looked like Lassie without the stripe on her snoot. She was a very majestic dog, and my best friend as a child. Our neighbors were very good people as well, they were from Taiwan. They used to wave at me every day when they pulled into their driveway when I was outside playing with my army men, or my RC car. My dad retired from the Navy in 2001, and we moved to New Jersey because he landed a lucrative job with a pharmaceutical company in the Garden State. We would go on bike rides through our neighborhood, my mother and father would read me stories every night before bed, Three hot meals a day plus dessert. Me and my dad would go to Blockbuster and get a few movies every Friday and order pizza or Chinese food, and watch Kung Fu movies on Saturday with a big bowl of popcorn. He would never let me sleep on the couch, he always carried me to my room and tucked me in. I was awake every time he carried me to bed looking over his shoulder smiling, I felt so loved and I know he did too. He carried me to bed a few times after I was 13 even just because he loved it so much. When my mom was not at work we were at the park, playing tennis in our neighborhood, learning how to rollerblade, riding bikes, making crafts, or playing catch when Dad could not. My mom bought one of those giant water slides that inflate to like 30 feet tall from Costco for HER birthday, she told me her best birthday gift in the world was watching me have fun. When my dad was not at work, we were flying kites and driving RC cars together, riding bikes, exploring the world, making wood projects in the garage, fishing, and boating. He had a riding lawnmower he mowed the lawn with and I would sit on his lap the whole time because it was fun. He would pop wheelies on the lawnmower in the court in front of me and my mom to make us smile. As a family we would go on camping trips to Hershey park for Halloween. We would fly to Iowa for Thanksgiving and Christmas, we went to Disney World, and we went to the beach in Ocean City and Wildwood all the time. It did not just stop there, to give you an idea of how incredible these people are I’m going to share a story that brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it, and it’s not a sad story. When I was 6 years old we went out to eat as a family to a restaurant called Champs. At Chips, the waitresses handed out back balloons to children that would eat there with their families. As a child you can become attached to pretty much any object under the sun, like a balloon for example. The waitress gave me a Champs balloon and I took it home with me. I named the balloon “blackie” and I kept the balloon tied to my bed before I went to sleep. When I woke up my parents told me I had to let “blackie” go and he would come back one day to see me. It was very hard for me to let it go. I was crying and sobbing as I let the balloon go. I told my dad to get the ladder and try to get it back as soon as I let it go. I was pretty sad about letting my balloon go because I felt some sort of connection with it. Several months later I came home from kindergarten and I walked to my room. When I walked into my room, my window was halfway open and the wind was blowing the white, soft curtains gently. In front of the curtain was a black Champs balloon floating in front of the window. I was in shock and dropped my book bag on my way to grab the balloon. I genuinely believed that “black” had actually come back for me like my parents said. I went downstairs melting with excitement telling my mom and dad about my balloon coming back to me like they said. They told me, “We told you he would come back for you son, he loves you like we do, we will always love you no matter what, God gave you to us.” As a 22-year-old man I know that was not the same balloon. More importantly I realized how incredible and how extremely valuable those people are to me for the life they have given me and just who they are. My family does not stop at just loving me either. They would give anyone the shirts off their backs in the world. I put them through hell years later and they are still here for me. Every flaw I have is from the people that created me and every good thing in me is from my parents. The hardest part about being in prison is being so far away from them.