No, no, you stay quiet. It’s my turn to talk. It’s my turn to be heard. Okay? And no, that wasn’t really a question. So just be quiet.
I understand that you are grieving. I get that. Even though he was only your uncle, that man was like a father to you. I understand that you feel lost and scared and you are only lashing out from a place of fear. Or at least that’s what the internet told me when I googled how to deal with this.
But here’s the thing. I’m grieving too. I’m not blood, I get that. But I was six when he took me in. And even though my mom got clean and I was lucky with that, he was still my family. For the last twelve years he has been the only constant in my life. I love my mother, but I know that at any given moment she could fall off the wagon again. But Chris was always there. No matter what happened, I could call him and he would be there for me. No matter what. And I loved him for that. And now he is gone.
I get that he was your family. I understand entirely that you have claims to him that I never could. And I don’t want to step on the toes of your grieving. I never want that.
But stop treating me like I’m not heartbroken too. Stop stepping on me when I’m already down. For the love of all things good and holy, remember that Chris touched a lot of people’s lives in strong and profound ways, and they are feeling his loss just like you. It’s possible that have just as much right to grieve their loss of him as you do.
And I guess that’s it. I guess I don’t have anything else to say. The most I can hope for is that you take my words to heart.