Papas side. Here it goes everyone:
My fathers name is Scott. And, like my mother, he is only 16 years older then me. Growing up, I didn't really know him. I mean... in the beginning my mother brought me around to his house because my grandma June wanted to see me. But when i was one, my 'grandpa' David told my mom she had to stop bringing me over there. Now, I'm not to sure about what the relationship between my mother and 'grandpa' was like. But, i myself, know that he is a rather scary guy. He is 25 years older then my Nana, was a professional boxer, and all of his friends are the big bosses in well known gangs. No joke.
I didn't see my grandmother or father for two years because of him.
Three years old. Most people don't remember anything from that age. But I can clearly remember the day i met my grandmother, father, uncles, and grandpa again. It was at Mc Donald's, of all places to have a family reunion.
First thing i remember- My grandmother crying. She was balling her eyes out and pulled me into a huge hug. She wouldn't let me go for the longest time. She keept telling me how she loved me and missed me. She called me her angel. She promised to always be there for me from now on.
What did I say?
"Mommy! who is this?"
To this day, I feel so bad. I should have kept my mouth closed. I hate hurting my Grandmother's feelings now. She cried even harder. Cupped my cheek in her hand. And then kissed my forehead.
Second thing i remember- A young guy. My mothers age. He came up to me with a tweedy bird stuffed animal and awkwardly handed it to me. Excited, i took it and hugged it tight. * Here is a little joke for you guys. Sorry to interrupt, but i think you may enjoy it. Since the day i was born, my Family has always called me tweedy. I was born with a big 'ol bald head. Way to large for my tiny body. I was skinny, and long. I didn't grown hair until i was two years old... people always thought i was a boy. To this day, I have still never lived down my huge head in my family.- back to my story* The young man did't even give me a hug. After he gave me the bird, he went back and sat down in the booth.
Third thing I remembered- Last, but not least. Here came my grandfather. This is the very first memory i have of him. He came up, with this huge smile on his face. Bent down, took my hand, and spoke to me in that deep voice of his. He said "Hello there, look at you all grown up. Would you like something to eat?" I loved him from that day on.
Little did i know, he was a sick bastard.
