...After the Storm. The Sun Came Out.

After the passing of my father in the summer of 2002, I was faced with a far greater challenge than learning to cope with death. This challenge was the eighth grade (Bring in the horror movie soundtrack!), where the girls got prettier over summer time and developed some sort of attractive features (i.e. ass and tatties), and the popular crowd was becoming far more accessible for people like myself, or so I thought. I never really belonged to any specific crowd before; I have always been an individual that for the most part, most people seemed to usually like me overall. I never been one of those people to address that fuckery of a noun HATERS…what the fuck is a HATER?! That was a bit rhetorical; I know what the hell a hater is. Do I have them is the question. Do I care is the bigger question, and if I have had them fuck them. I think our generation is too obsessed with using people who dislike them as an advantage to gain popularity. That is all you hear in these damn rap songs these days “hater nigga this, hater bitch that…” shut the fuck up! You don’t hear Lady Gaga talking about haters and nonsense like that. She has plenty of people, who hate her and cannot stand her, but you don’t see her addressing them; she does her thing and puts out more and more good music unlike the ones who address em. Side note, you don’t see Jay-Z doing it either, well blatantly at least. But, the eighth grade was a year I swore up and down was going to be different from all the rest unlike sixth and seventh grade. I think eighth grade year was the first time I had set goals and accomplished each and every one that I had laid out. I remember during the first month of school in my science class, which was a BEOTCH, we did not have a permanent teacher yet, so the school gave us a sub for the first month of school. When I say Mr. Ward was by far one of the coolest substitute teachers I have ever had, I ain’t lying! (50 Tyson voice). Mr. Ward was a young dude, made hip hop beats, and never dressed up for class…he always had on jeans n shit. I remember one class I met one of the most intimidating yet awesome female MC’s ever! Her name was Esra; she rhymed with the logic of Nas with the pace of Bizzy Bone. She was awesome. We were doing introductions in class and Mr. ward was reading over our hobbies, and he saw that Esra like to rap; he immediately asked her stand up and “spit a lil somethin somethin” for the class. Looking at her, you could easily see that she was nervous and very timid in her approach to the front of the class. Mr. Ward asked for somebody to make a beat on the table top and he was going to beat box along with the beat. The beat got started and Esra began to nod her head to see where she was going to start in accordance with the beat. Her head nodded harder and harder, and then it came out! She sat there nodding her head in all sorts of directions and these awesome combinations of words started to come out, and they rhymed brilliantly! I felt chills run through my body bar after bar. At Key Middle school, it was not uncommon to get in trouble for having freestyle sessions at lunch. It caused such a lovely riot, yet at the same time a ton of hostility if you got roasted while battling somebody. The table I sat at with my friends, primarily my neighborhood friends (Good Hope!) and a few other random people, but it was all cool. I remember the table that was behind us was an all girl table that we constantly got into shit with! It’s funny how things turn out, because one of the girls who sat at that table is now one of my good friends. During a lunch table freestyle session it really didn’t matter who went, as long as they said something funny or cool. I remember one day my friend Donny asked me did I want to battle Esra for fun…I said “hell no!” I could not fade getting embarrassed at lunch again in middle school! It was already bad enough that back in eighth grade I cried when a white girl dumped me on the first day of class. One of my most specific goals that year was to make the basketball team; it had been almost like a dream of mine since the sixth grade. The coach from sixth and seventh grade was an asshole that wouldn’t let sixth graders try out for the team, or was that the school policy? Eighth grade was full of basketball! I played for the rec. team, I played street ball daily, our rec. team was damn near unbeatable so we had to play Boys and Girls Club, and when we won a championship there we upgraded to AAU (the Mecca of youth sports). I remember the day tryouts were held…you want to talk about being a nervous wreck, sweet lord cheeses! I was sweating bullets before we began the drills. Everybody wondered why I was so damn nervous, I mean my gym teacher was the basketball coach and anytime we got to play basketball in gym I tried my hardest to show off and showcase my skills. I remember the day we got called to coaches office where Coach Rey gave us our slips telling us if we made the team of not. I think that day had to be the most nerve-wrecking day of my life thus far! I left his office with the piece of paper folded in my hand, thinking to myself “you made it, you made it…don’t worry, you made it.” I hit the corner that led to the stairwell and opened up the folded sheet of paper and there it was, I MADE THE TEAM! I was now a Key Eagle! After that all I could think about was how proud my dad would have been of me that day. He always pushed me to go after what I wanted even if I do not succeed at least I can say I tried my hardest. I’m not going to give the details of practice, how much playing time I got (which was minimal), my first basket, or who we played each game. All I can say is this, our team made Montgomery County history as far as Middle School sports go. We were the first team to go undefeated and average seventy plus points per game, even though we did not face our rivals, Banneker Middle, which was a game everyone on the team and within the student body wanted to see. Being on the basketball team had a bit to do with that newfound popularity that I had gained that year too. It was almost overwhelming in a sense. The next thing I knew is that I could not walk down a hallway without getting a handshake from the dudes or a hug from the girls. It was one girl that I had wanted to hug for the longest time though, her name was Laila. My friends use to clown me all the time for having a crush on her…I think she is the reason I have a thing for girls with braces. It all started in the sixth grade when she asked me to hold her books while she figured out her locker combination, we didn’t exchange names or anything…I just took the books and glanced at her here and there. It took me three years to say actual words to her and get some sort of positive response. I had my few run-ins with her before. The first time was at outdoor-education where my friend Diego ran over to her and told her that I said her and went out. She came over and BOMBED MY ASS OUT by repeatedly telling me that we WERE NOT A COUPLE; the public humiliation sucked. The funny thing about Francis Scott Key Middle School’s dances that were thrown every couple of months were that once you bought a ticket you were handed a school directory. The school directory was such a gift and a curse when communicating with the opposite sex. I remember one day, calling Laila up unexpectedly and asking if she wanted to go see a movie Saturday…I immediately got hung up on. Then the eighth grade rolled around, and ironically I bumped into her and her friend Lauren at the movies. My friends and I were walking back up the hill to the mall at the movies and she and Lauren were headed to the Checkers that sat on the top of the hill as well. I got into the mall with my friends, and then acted like I was hungry. Now being that I had just ate a few minutes before, my friends looked at me like I was insane and taunted me and called me FAT! I went into the Checkers and pretended that I did not see her or Lauren sitting there eating, and then it happened! She asked me to sit down with them. I had never been so happy and nervous at the same time, but I felt like after years of trying and trying to get this girls attention that this was my moment! I sat and conversed and forced myself to eat this food that I honestly did not want to eat, but oh well. The conversation lasted so long that my friends had actually left the mall to come look for me. These fools stormed in and already knew what was going on. The teased me a bit but they were not blatant enough to get Laila or Lauren to understand what was going on. I think Lauren knew though. After we left the mall I went home with the biggest smile on my face. I got home and laid down for a bit and then thought about resorting back to that damn directory and calling her just to see if I could squeeze some more conversation out of the evening. I called her, she picked up, I could hear Lauren in the background talking or doing something, and Laila said that she was going to call me back. At this point I was like “oh I know what that means” I had already learned from older kids that when someone says “they’ll call you back” it typically means that they won’t call you back. But too my luck a few hours later, while I was sleeping, my phone rang! I woke up, talked with this awesome girl I had had a “thing” for since the first day I met her. I do not remember exactly what the basis of the conversation was or how long we talked, all I know is that on Monday I got my first hug from her and on that Saturday we hung out at the movies for the first time, not by coincidence. It was the beginning of one of my most memorable and cherished friendships...

I Think It's Safe To Say.

I am back! New attitude, new outlook on life, and new posts coming for y'all! The past couple weeks have been far tougher than I could have ever imagined. I finally got myself a car, 99 grey Nissan Sentra, named Kalmia. I don't really know why I named it that...I saw the name on 16Th street in DC and I just really liked the name. The car has been a bit stressful as far as maintenance goes...I mean the engine runs superb, but the body was a bit banged out. Luckily some asshole hit me at a McDonald's drive thru and I was able to take the money the insurance company gave me, after being stifling little assholes about the ordeal, (FUCK PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE COMPANY! I don't care how nice that weird lady is on the commercial) and hook my car up with some body work. My household has not been the most peaceful place to stay, since my mom put my little sister out for fucking up once again. At least I can say that my sister is in a far better place than PG County though. I find it sad that a majority of these teenage girls in PG County are far too fast and trusting when dealing with sex and who they interact with. I do not know what the standard is in these young girls minds when it comes to choosing dudes to date or even consider talkin to. I may sound like an old ass man as you are reading this, but what ever happened to decency? What ever happened to good hygiene? What the hell happened to CHIVALRY! I swear, as an avid user of public transportation, it pisses me the fuck off the the fullest extent when I see a train full of people, and there are women standing and men sitting down as if it is okay. Stand your ass up and let that woman sit down! The sad part is some of the dudes sitting down act as if they are entitled to sit there before a woman. My grandma would have tore me a new asshole if she saw that I didn't give up my seat to a woman or better yet, a woman carrying a child. When I do give up my seat on the bus or train the other people look at me as if I have lost my Goddamn mind! fuck off! I'm sorry for doing the right thing, I just feel wrong if I don't, and I have this annoying little old woman sitting on my shoulder yelling in my ear saying "nigga you better get up before I make you get up and go cut a switch!" Don't sit there and act like you never had to cut your OWN SWITCH for YOUR OWN ASS WHOOPING! My grandma did not play that bullshit when it came to me, my brother, and my sister and how we treated people. But back to the issue of dating standards. These days it seems like the more you disrespect yourself and other people, the more people are attracted to you...or are they attracted to the thought of the amount of attention they may get while they are with a person like that? Nobody enjoys a chase of someone worth having anymore. It's like fastfood, everybody wants to eat, but nobody wanst to put time in the kitchen to cook up a healthy meal that will last a few days and do teh body, so they resort to soemthing cheap, unhealthy, quick, and easy to satisfy their hunger. Whatever the excuse may be, it is a fucking shame! There is nothing more heartbreaking and disappointing than decent person with the most rowdy, loud, rude, and obnoxious being imaginable. i can't help but look at myself in the mirror and ask "damn what the fuck are you doing wrong Mr. Wright?' But this is typical in the area I'm from...The DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia). I would be asinine to think that these standards existed only in the DMV; I'm sure it exists in other cities, it's probably worldwide, but I do not know of other places, just here. I remember last semester at my old school PGCC, Go OWLS! (Prince George's Community College) my club (GEEK) held a forum called "Battle of the Sexes" to debate issues that come up between men and women all too often. Typical PGCC, we got some of the most dumbass responses from a few men on the panel, and the women answered in the most basic annoying fashion. Turns out that they liked bad boys...I mean everybody wants somebody with a little edge, but I would hope that they wouldn't want a person with a jail record, more than one baby mama, and zero respect for the English language (I hate people who have terrible grammar)...I was so wrong. But people are going to like what they like regardless of all the signs that display how bad it is for your are hanging right in their faces or not, like cigarettes. I will admit, I miss my sister and I hope she gets back on the right path. We all hurt, but there is a certain line that you do not cross to express your frustration. My mom is stressing over the issue, which is understandable. The whole ordeal was unbelievable, lots of words exchanged, about 95% of them were hurtful...and the fact that all of this shit happened on a Sunday was even more disturbing. It is not like I do not know where my sister is, she's in VA with my dad's side of the fam, and knowing them, they are gonna straighten her ass out just right. I think that's called TOUGH LOVE. I think more people need that kind of love, I honestly believe our society is so damn bad because of these nonchalant parents raising these bad ass kids however the kids desire to be raised. It's like they scared to whip they kid ass! Punk ass laws n shit about what is and what isn't appropriate in regards to raising kids. Half these politicians who make these laws and sign these bills know damn well they hate the fact that putting their kid in "time-out" did nothing more than bring their kid up to be hooked on hard drugs, have unwanted pregnancies, or commit suicide. Time-out is for BEOTCHES! I am so glad to be back writing and posting more blogs. I have literally been too stressed to write, but day by day, things are getting much better. It feels good to be back feeling good.

RelationSHIT.

..."I'm coming straight outta Compton! Crazy Motherfucker named FOSTER!" Oops. Sorry, it is #MusicMonday on Twitter and my iPod is in heavy rotation right now, and sometimes I like to infuse my name into my favorite songs every now and then just to be loopy. It feels like I have not posted a blog in the longest fucking time! Well I do have an excuse...I mean school did just start, and I have been trying to get back into the swing of things.I just started at my NEW SCHOOL! Yours truly is now a Towson Tiger and could not be more satisfied! The campus is amazing and the diversity is amazing. Not to mention, the campus is eco-friendly! I love my school dammit! On my first day while I was eating lunch with a friend in the cafeteria, I was looking around the room for familiar faces and looking at the new faces. Looking at the new faces, I noticed a couple having an argument...ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!! Who the fuck does that?! Not me?! Not now! Not never! And plus, I never been too much of the arguing type...I'm too cool and laid back to raise my voice and public and look like a fool! But luckily something positive came out of that argument I witnessed...that couple is my inspiration for this post. Relationships...Relation...Ships...Relation...Ships. Just sounds dumb to me, do not get me wrong I love the idea of people in love and lasting FOREVER (yeah right), but nowadays that's bullshit! Especially when dealing with my generation and our outrageous standards as to what the ideal partner is. My generations idea of the ideal partner is about how good someone is in bed, how much money they have, where they rank in the social circles, how they dress, you know...shit like that. People have lost patience in this quest for the IDEAL PARTNER. People are now jumping into what seems to be good relationships, and then they end up committing the greatest form of betrayal and pain known to the heart. This despicable act ladies and gentlemen is called CHEATING. Personally, I classify cheating along with other disgusting things such as murder, spitting on someone, and republicans. Why do people cheat? Cheaters are just evil fucking people who should be damned to hell. Seriously. Do not give me the whole "they cheated because they got bored and unsatisfied..." or "the person probably forced them to that point." bullshit. NOBODY DESERVES TO BE CHEATED ON! I think that as a human being you should be able to open up your mouth and let somebody know that they are no longer making you happy! The ones that do the cheating have no clue how much damage they are really doing to a person in the long run! It fucks your heart up! As well as your mind! You have never seen or heart fall to pieces or a mind get drove to it's boiling point that severely because of another person. People lose trust in others, people become distant, people learn how to acquire hate in place of happiness, people can even go crazy and type blogs about how fucked up cheating is! What makes cheating even worse is that feeling of denial when you know for certain you are being messed around on, but you keep filling your mind with the fraudulent thoughts of how they aren't cheating. You fool yourself and come out looking like a fool. And when you do find out, what do you do? You want to say "fuck this, I'm done!" But truth be told, most people don't say that until a few minutes, hours, months, YEARS later. The question most people ask when they found out they get cheated on is "Why?". I have been a victim of asking that dumb ass rhetorical question before, I have never felt dumber in my entire life. It's the lack of respect that really did me in though, here you are this beautiful piece of human being walking around with all my trust in your little purse...and in an instant you snap it and become the ugliest being on Earth. This was almost over three years ago though and I'm far from bitter at the person anymore...I'm just being passionate looking back at what happened. I call it my "writing-fuel". But after being in so many potentially good relationships turned to pieces I have concluded that I am done believing in love until someone comes along and changes that entire perspective. I do not need that shit right now, and as I take a look around at these other couples I cannot help but laugh at the idea of them hoping and wishing to last FOREVER, because in a few months they'll be at each others throats with frustration. I even feel this way in regards to my close friends relationships. It's all a joke! I think it's just fashionable for people to be in relationships these days simply because it makes the person look stable. Can you believe that shit?! You need to be attached to someone to APPEAR stable! Or at least that is what I'm getting out of all of this. Fuckers are just wearing people like their a pea coat in the winter time, just to look good. Like I said, I am fucked up in the romance department, but it is only from what I witness and what I have been through...some of it I brought upon myself I guess...but damn. I remember when I was in camp a few years ago and one of the counselors was talking and then said "look to your left, look to your right. You probably won't even be able to tell who the people you just looked at are in the next five years!' Coincidentally, the person on my left was my girlfriend at the time. I don't really know where I'm going with this one to be honest, I'm just venting. It's my ex's bday tomorrow...I want to call her, but I doubt she answers. I'll probably just send her a text and a voicemail, I ain't forgot about the date and all that she still means alot to me. The end of this month has been a little piece of hell actually just because she's been on my mind so much, and flooding my subconscious. Literally flooding every dream of mine. It's sick! But I enjoy sleep just because I know that is the only place I'll see her. I sound like a fucking fool right now, but that's what that romance monster will do to you. Of course I only let a few people know all the details of why I been thinking about her so much. I actually think I'm so confused in this romance thing because I honestly and truly thought she was IT. But it turns out it was nothing more us in the place of my friends who I just ridiculed for being in relationships that will soon end. Until I get myself together and prepared to take another stab at this love thing again I'm working on myself and focusing on what a 20 year old needs to be focusing on.

It Was Just an Innocent Anniversary.

If I would have know that today was going to be such a huge day in my life I would have definitely packed something a bit more classy than a sandwich bag full of crushed chips, a strawberry jelly sandwich, a few cookies, and a Mountain Dew....oh yea I packed her an Airhead because she liked them. July 2, 2002 was our day! It was our year anniversary. Her name was Alicia and we met at camp. It was so innocent and insane at the same time. An eighth grader in a RELATIONSHIP...but oh well she was gorgeous, played sports, and loved movies. By far the coolest girl I had ever known at the time and she liked me. Excuse me, LOVED me. Sounds really funny saying that at my age now because I am still clueless as to what love is, imagine what I must have felt back then. I do not know exactly what was running through my head while we were together, but all I know is that it always felt right, even if our parents chaperoned our dates...excuse me outing's...because my mom and hers did not believe in 12 and 13 year olds DATING. That morning, I had left the house for camp with my headphones rocking to a mix tape I had made at Gary's house the night before. That motherfucker Gary use to break our necks for making mix tapes on his computer! 12 dollars dude?! What the hell?! I swear he use to charge us per track! But oh well, I can't knock the dudes hustle...he made big money...until everybody else got a computer. I got to camp really early that morning and my lunchbox was extra heavy, because I had made my own damn lunch the night before! I was feeling a bit grown. Oh yea! Big kid mode! Camp that morning was pretty routine, then...she walked in. Looking as amazing as anything else that could ever be kissed by the sun in the Summer. She walked up to me and simply said "hey, you know what today is?" and I was just standing there like, "hell yea! It's OUR day!" So that whole day I made sure I was near her, even if it met sneaking out of my group to go be in hers or near her during arts and crafts. Yeah I know I already made a house out of Popsicle sticks and glue, but for her I'd do it a million times just to sit there and smile. A few of the counselors got on me all the time leaving my group to be near her; I actually recall getting in a bit of trouble for it, so as a punishment I had to go sit against the blue padded walls inside the gym until lunchtime. The cool thing about lunchtime at camp is that you can eat anywhere you want with whoever you want. So during lunch that day, her & I sat with our usual crew and talked our usual shit. Lunch was amazing on today especially for some reason, and she loved her Airhead! After lunch, it was time for that one game I had the best athleticism for...dodge ball! I was a fuckin' beast at dodge ball! My favorite part of the game was evading the hits...throwing...ehh not so much. Somehow this game however, I was one of the first people to get eliminated. WHAT THE FUCK?! HOW'D THIS HAPPEN?! So I had to take my ass to those blue padded walls...AGAIN! But right after I got eliminated guess who came to those blue padded walls to keep me company? If you guessed Alicia you deserve a Klondike Bar! She came over sat next to me, and the poor girl had a red mark on her face...I guess that was an indicator that she got whopped in the face by a dodge ball...looks like someone forgot the "dodge" principle of the game. We held hands and snuck a kiss while nobody was looking, I could not have been any happier at that moment. All of a sudden, a counselor comes up to me and tells me to step into the lobby, for what? I didn't know. At first, I thought Alicia and I had gotten into trouble again for kissing...which had become quite the norm for us the previous summer. At the camp we were at the previous year, we had got in a shitload of trouble for trying french kissing in a cabin. It was so awkward, all of our friends and other campers were just sitting there watching us kiss and daring us to go longer. So I walk into the lobby, and standing in front of the help desk is my Aunt Linda, my Godfather Kenny, and my little brother Andrew who had tears running all down his face. I was very confused seeing my little brother crying and seeing this odd combination of people standing in front of me on this random Tuesday afternoon. Why the hell were they here? and why was Andrew crying so much? I walked up and asked what was going on, and my godfather muttered something, but the only thing I could make out was "your dad passed." At that moment, I felt my stomach drop and I got really dizzy. I think this is what most people refer to as shock. I got in my godfathers car, and sat next to my brother and tried to get him calm, but I could only imagine what the house was going to be like compared to my little brothers emotions. I get out of the car and look at my house...the vibe that I got looking at the house itself was one that I could never describe. It was as if something was just hanging over our house painting on a shade of depression onto the brand new side-paneling. I walk into the house and there sat my aunt, my grandmother, a few people from the neighborhood, my grandfather, and then I saw my mom. She looked so heart broken. I couldn't even hug her properly...I had never seen my mom so hurt. I asked her what happened, she told me that he had passed out getting out of the shower and died at the hospital from heart failure. My father died at Holy Cross Hospital, the same hospital I was born at. I went upstairs to my room with my mom, and in my room was my great grandma who was closer to my dad than anybody and she was consoling my brother. She sat in that chair rocking back and forth telling me about this dream she had nights before about my dad passing, it was so surreal to hear this coming from her. My grandma let out a cry that will forever stay in my memories, talk about pain...that was agony and frustration wrapped in love. My mom and brother laid on my bottom bunk bed and cried together. All I could do was think of how quickly I could leave that damn house. I had not cried a tear since I got the news a few earlier. I wanted to cry but no tears would come out. I never really knew how to react to death at the moment it is announced. Nioot being able to do this makes me feel almost inhumane. The night before I remember going into my parents room and seeing my dad just lay there looking as if he were hurt, looked like he had a pain in his chest or something. I asked him if he needed anything, but all he did was kept trying to convince me that he was okay, even though I didn't believe him. This day I was going through was all the proof I needed to verify that he was in fact NOT alright the night before. The thing that tripped me out was, that morning I had left to tell my parents good-bye before I left for camp, he looked just fine. I can't help but feel as if it were some kind of precaution I could have taken to have kept him alive. I left my room and went outside by myself to just sit and think. It was almost one hundred degrees outside, but at this point I really didn't care about too much. I sat outside in that heat and just thought, then my Aunt Linda came out back and tried to talk me. I really had not said much of anything after I got the news, almost mute actually. My aunt has always been an excellent mediator, I mean she's been a school counselor and mediator for damn near twenty years so go figure. I told her how numb I felt at the moment and she asked what did I want to do...I told her I simply wanted to leave. I left the house and walked back to camp. That was the longest walk of my life. I began to think about what was the last thing I said to my father before he died? Thank God my last words to him were "I Love you, I'll see you later." I also began to think about how different our household was going to become and what my mom was going to do with the whole situation. I got to camp and the first person I was was Alicia, she immediately knew something was wrong, and that is when I told her what happened. She just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay...that was very relieving to hear, but very unbelievable at the moment. I proceeded with the rest of my day which was filled with a very eerie thought filled with disbelief that my father was really dead. I felt like I was in a really bad dream, but the reality was...I was nowhere near dreaming. A few of the counselors that knew what happened spoke to me privately and told me that if I every needed to talk or vent that they were available. I really appreciated the love they showed even though I was a bit of a handful at times. My family from Portsmouth, Virginia showed up a few days later and began to plan the funeral. It sucked that it took the death of our dad, their brother, her son, her grandson, their uncle, their cousin, and her husband to get the family together. My cousins being their with us really took my mind off my dad a bit. I love my cousins even if I am the baby of them all. I took em to my hangout spots in Silver Spring and showed them where we played basketball. My homeys were a fantastic support system when my dad passed too. Most of my friends from Good Hope either didn't have their fathers directly in their lives, they passed, or they never knew their fathers. They were probably the best support system because they were not constantly reminding me that he was gone by asking me "are you okay?" They just kept treating me like they had always treated me, like Foster from 1160 with the bush. The funeral was probably the most depressing day of my life. I did not go to the viewing of the body, I do not find that helpful at all in the grieving process. Why would you want your last visual memory of someone to be of them laying in a casket...DEAD? Definitely not how I wanted to remember my father. I showed up to the Church up the street during the ceremony. I walked in while my best friend Mike's mom was singing at the podium. I had no clue she had such an amazing voice, I wish that I could have heard her sing somewhere else besides my dad's funeral though. The funeral brought out the entire neighborhood! Pee Wee the Ice Cream man was even there! God Bless Pee Wee though, the day my dad died he brought our family a whole bunch of stuff off his truck for my brother and sister and myself. I was just in awe at how many people came out to support our family and honor the life of my dad. I was surrounded by love, of course the depression was in the room. I hated churches though, and I hated the fact that I had to sit front row at the funeral. I know my father would have been laughing hard as hell if he would have saw me sitting front row. When the ceremony was over everyone stood in the parking lot and just spoke to each other, even people who did not know each other. Every one had a story about my father. The most amusing story I had heard was from my Uncle Bobby who told me about the time my dad stole the ambulance from the firehouse he was working at and drove it all the way to Portsmouth. I am my father's child because I can definitely see myself doing something that outrageous. When the funeral was over, everyone went home. I was scared for my mom, because after today I knew all the attention she had been getting would soon decrease and she would be left on her own to raise three kids, luckily she had an amazing family to help out when needed. Orelious D. Wright, was an amazing father to me, and taught me more in my twelve short years than I will learn in a lifetime. I also got more ass whippings in twelve years that aided those lessons I learned. He was a great man, and there has not been a day that has gone by where I have not thought of him. I miss and love my father very much, but I know that he is steadily watching over me and protecting me.