9 years ago my uncle was killed down the street from his house which is around the corner from my house, i didn't learn until that morning that he was gun downed since i was in carson for the nite trying to do an english paper that i don't think i finished after i learned of the news. I used to see my uncle everyday because he used to drive by my house every morning or drop by and say hello, but the last time that i got to see and talk to him was on my birthday and i was hoping that he'd remember but he was talking to my dad as i said nothing to even bring it up which i was okay with me because I'd always get a birthday gift in august or sometime later in the year which was odd but felt nice to sort of have two birthdays in a year. little did i know that was going to be the last time i would hug him and talk to him.
it hit me pretty hard, i didn't see him in the hospital because i was scared for the most part and knew that i wouldn't be able to handle it, same thing happened at the viewing as i was going to attempt to say goodbye i stopped myself and found my mom behind me trying to stop me because she too knew i wouldn't be able to handle it, i lost the one person who i felt comfortable talking about anything with at the time.
it would take me a couple of years to come to terms with it, i started writing right after and then my parents bought me an instrument and i found myself growing up and being more mature than my peers at the time some how some way, aside from the regret of not saying a goodbye, every once and awhile i wonder if i would ever started writing or playing music if he was still alive today...one of the things i'll never know i guess.