ToXicJuliet

What do you do when you lose your voice? How do you feel? When everything you say is drowned out by all the other sounds surrounding you. 

oh-rdinary:

romeothejuliet:

staff:

claireredfieldask:

barefootin-bluejeans:

why does this not have hundreds of thousands of notes

no peasants

DID THE STAFF JUST CALL US PEASANTS?

WHY NOT? AND UH, WE’RE NOT PEASANTS.

It’s funny how hind-sight is always 20/20. Actually it’s more a pain in the ass then anything… But I guess it’s better that it happens late then never at all. The picture that you see above is my grandfather, Bill, and myself on Christmas back in Michigan. I’m going to guess based on the photo that I was 2-3 years of age. 

This one is my grandfather, myself, and my mom at a mother’s day gathering. This was one of the things we made a tradition of. My grandfather moved down here first. Shortly after my mother followed to be closer to him. It was a big move that took a little to adjust to. I come from a fairly large family and moving down here really kind of secluded us from everyone else so all we had was each other. These yearly traditions suddenly meant so much more then they had before.

This one is my grandfather and I on Easter in his old house located in a city called Plantation here in South Florida. I was the only child that moved down to Florida with my family but my grandfather always made sure that I still had an Easter Egg Hunt every year even though it was only me. He made the search even more exciting because usually every egg had a dollar inside instead of candy.

This is my Aunt Colleen, myself, and my grandfather at one of the popular Latin festivals held down here several times a year. I come from a family of partiers who love to have fun. This was something my grandfather did very well and got much joy out of. They thought it would be funny to take a picture of myself (a minor at the time around the age of 13) with an alcoholic beverage in my hand. Nothing but innocent fun. I assure you I did not consume any of it.

This is a picture of my grandfather in the hospital going through chemotherapy from an aggressive form of cancer known as Burkitt’s Lymphoma… My grandfather was also HIV positive. This picture was taken the day before he died. It wasn’t until I was looking back on all of my pictures with the man that meant so much to me that I realize 1. no matter how much life had shit on him he always had a smile on his face, and 2. this was the only picture that I possessed of him that I was not also in the picture with him. The last time I saw my grandfather alive was a few days before this picture was taken….

My grandfather’s passing was the first death that I was old enough to comprehend what had happened. I actually knew it happened before my mother told me. I had a dream that woke me from my sleep in the middle of the day. I was napping from severe back pain, which at the time for me was abnormal. In the dream I was on the phone with my mother who was hysterical… When I woke up I immediately knew what had happened. That night my mother, my uncle, and myself stayed at his house. I slept on the couch. It was the one place every Sunday that I would watch various comedy central stand-ups and new programs with him. It was the one day a week that I could depend on always being just that, my grandpa, my mom, and myself all having Sunday dinner and watching tv. It wasn’t until his death that I realized how much he meant to me… It wasn’t up until that moment that I realized how much I needed those Sundays… Nothing has ever been the same since that day. He was the only male figure that I could depend on and look up to… and he was gone so suddenly. Since all that happened my family down here in Florida has pretty much slowly dwindled down to just my mother and myself. Since her father died she has been more depressed then ever and I can’t say I’ve been much better… I don’t have a particularly rough time day by day but without him around it does make the days harder then I ever remembered them being. This is the only man who showed me that the male species is one that can be trusted no matter what the sexual orientation. He suffered from depression but had so much love to give. Every Valentine’s Day I received a card from him with a lovely note and 12 dollars. It was one of the holidays that was truly special to him. He lived a fun filled life with some major bumps along the way but he managed to pull through it. Sometimes I wish my mother could look back on his life and maybe it would change the way she thinks about her own. He made the best out of everything he could. While he was high tempered at times, it took a lot of get him pissed. This man was my life and I never realized it. I hope he knows it now even though he is no longer here… I just hope he knows.

Why does everything you do affect me so much?