Walk On...

(originally written March 27th, 2008)
There is nothing funny about this blog, as a matter of fact; it’s probably one of the harder ones I will ever write.

I don’t have really anyone I can talk to, most people say I can talk to them whenever I want to, but really, honestly, lots of them are just saying that because they feel obligated to because they’re my friends, but mostly because they are off doing their own things. Is this wrong? Not really, I know everyone has their own life to live, and well, sometimes, its just hard to have enough time to spread out throughout the day. I don’t blame them, hell, even I am the same way from time to time, I guess.

I guess I thought I would write here because, well, it’s about the only outlet I have where I can just be me and say what I want to say. I really could care less if you agree with anything I have ever written, or if you agree with everything I have written- which I hope not- but the point is, I can say what I want without having to turn in my work to a teacher for a letter grade. I don’t have to worry about grammar, punctuation, spelling, or saying the word "fuck". I can just be Steven, for better or for worse.

Like I said, I really don’t have anyone I can talk to, I mean I do, but I don’t. Some people are lucky enough to have a spouse, some are lucky to have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, and others are lucky to have best friends forever, or something gay like that. Yeah, I have my best friends: AJ, Riv, Mike, so on and so on, but still it’s a lot harder for guys to open up than girls; this is just a fact, girls are more in tune with what’s on their mind, and even then some girls really don’t give a shit what I say, or do, so really, what’s the fucking point? This isn’t the point of this blog. I just needed an outlet to say what I want to say, somewhere I can say what’s on my mind and try and move on forward.

Obviously, everyone has a family, some are closer to theirs than other, and some are so close it’s sickening. I don’t know where I fall, I am very close to my family, my mother in particular. For those of you who know me, this isn’t hard to see, I love my family and my mother in particular. Actually, my mom is probably the most important person I have in my life right now and the one who I look up to. My mom, Connie, is maybe 5’1"; she may be small, but I swear that woman can move mountains. I’m not trying to sound like I’m bragging or anything, but it’s true when I say I wish everyone had a mom the way I do. In a world that is so fucked up in every sense of the imagination, I am extremely lucky to have her in my life. I love my mom, and I’m proud of it. I don’t love her in an Oedipus-type of way, but I guess in the way God had in mind when he created mothers and sons. This is why today was one of the hardest days of my life; this is completely new to me, and really I’m kind of learning on the fly.

I remember one of the greatest days of my life was in the summer of 1993. I will never forget this day as long as I live. I was playing All-Stars in El Campo and we had just beaten El Campo’s All-Star team and I had pitched a wonderful game. I was 12 years old at the time and I didn’t really understand what was going on, I was just playing baseball. Anyway, we played El Campo the first time around and they beat us like a step-child. Because it was a double elimination tournament we got to play them again and this time I would be pitching. It seemed as if the whole town was out there watching Sugar Land take on El Campo; we had a back and forth game which we ended up winning 4-2. I had no idea what was going on outside the fences or what was being said, but after the game everything sank in. My dad was walking around talking to some of the parents for El Campo and they all said the pitching performance I gave was one of the best they’ve ever seen from a 12-year old. My dad never acknowledged he was the father of the pitcher they were talking about.

After we got done with the game and eating the after-game snacks from the team mom and running around celebrating as 12-year old kids do. My dad did something that I will never forget; it was the day I realized that he wasn’t a superhero I grew up thinking he was, but merely a man, a proud father. He took me out to the parking lot and hugged me, I asked him why he was hugging me and he then replied, choking back tears in his welling eyes, because he was never more proud of me at that time in his life than he had ever been before. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to react, I actually started to cry to, not because I was happy at what he said (actually, I was), but because, when you’re a kid growing up, you never see your parents cry, they are like superheroes to us, if we see them cry, we know something is going on. It may not be much but to see my dad cry, hugging me in the parking lot because he was truly proud of me, is something I will never forget. To this day, I have not seen my parents cry. Until today.

It’s about 9:30pm, Thursday March 27th, and about 12 hours ago my grandmother, my Mom’s mom, passed away. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, or even how I would react. You hear about things like this and you kind of know what to do and what to say, but until it actually happens to you, you don’t know shit. I didn’t. I got the phone call from my Dad this morning informing me that my grandmother had a heart attack and she was gone. Immediately, my heart sank, my knees buckled, and my eyes welled, probably in the same way my Dad’s did in ’93. I loved my grandmother; I was the first grandchild on that side of my family, and everyone, for some reason, looked up to me. This hit me hard, but as hard as it hit me, I know it hit my Mom the hardest. How could it not?

As soon as I got done with my Dad on the phone I called my Mom to check and see if she was okay, which I knew she wasn’t. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I knew I had to be there, I had to go and see her until the rest of my immediate family could get there. I raced home from the hospital and saw my Mom on the couch crying her mini-stature out. I could only hug her and tell her that I was sorry; she cried in my arms and soon made me cry as well. Two family members crying their eyes out because they love each other so much but also because they were hurting. As long as I live I will never, ever forget standing up in the living room hugging my Mom while she cried her eyes out on my shirt. I could only stand there and hug her, and hug her, and hug her. Eventually, the crying stopped and I mumbled something that sounds like ’I love you , Mom’. There was nothing I could do, but I think deep down, I had done enough. Will I ever do anything that takes away the pain from losing your mother? No, I’m not that important, but still, I think it helped that I was there for her when she needed someone, much like she is always there for me when I need someone.

Do I have a point in this blog? No, not really, I mean talking about death in family members is never a fun thing to do; it’s never easy, and it always hurts. This much I know from the 12 hours since I found out my grandmother passed away. I wish I had something funny to say, or even something smart-ass to say because, honestly, that’s me, that’s Steven. Everything I could say has been said in countless fashion: In Hallmark cards, in country songs, and even in Boyz II Men songs.

One of the problem I guess I’ve had with people, I guess especially lately, is that I open up too much, too soon. I tend to say whats on my mind, especially as it relates to me and my feelings, I’m never one to hold them back. I guess this explains maybe why I’m single, which I am fine with. But, really, one of the reasons I do it is because I don’t know whats going to happen, I don’t know what is going to happen tonight, tomorrow, this week, this year, this lifetime. I simply don’t know; my life can change in a matter of minutes; I found this out this morning. I guess the reason I say things when I do say them, especially when I mean them, is because I don’t know what will happen. I don’t want to be one of those people who regrets not saying whats on their mind until its too late.

Wednesday night I got into an argument with my Mom, I was mad at her about something stupid really, in all actuality, it really didn’t matter what we were arguing about because it was fucking stupid; I should know better, and I do. Anyway, this was yesterday, this morning the first time I saw my mom, she was crying; I really couldn’t imagine having the last conversation with my mom, or any other family member, in an argument. Life is too short, life can change in the blink of an eye. You’ve all heard it before, but coming from someone who it hit home with, in an indirect way, tell the people you love and the people you care about how much they mean to you. It doesn’t have to be a full blown hug, kiss, and "I love you", but any form that shows you care. A text message, a noogie, a middle-finger, anything…you never know what will happen in your life one day until the next day. I guess this is one reason my brothers and I call each other "fags" and give each other the middle finger, not because we hate each other, but precisely the opposite, its our way of showing each other how much we care for one another.

I’m not here to preach, I’m really not here to do much of anything, I just needed a way to get out what is in my head right now, is it sad? Yeah, but it happens. I know the Lord called my grandmothers card this morning, but like O.A.R. sings, "in the end, my friend, we will all be together again". Will I miss my grandmother? Yeah, I will. Sunday will be one of the hardest days of my lives, but I know that as long as I have my family, my rock, I know I will make it through. Will it hurt? Yeah, it will; I know this, but I also know it will get easier. Do, I have anything else to add? Not really, I cant really harp on this because honestly, its not something you want to keep bringing up. I guess in all of this, I’ll look up to my hero, my mom. Superheroes never let us down…

Miss you grandma. I’ll see you when its time to come home
-Steven Ray