This isn't the normal style post for this blog. It has nothing to do with running, and everything to do with family.
I shouldn't complain, because there are other people in my life that are going through harder times than me right now.
That said, I need to vent a bit to the masses. It has been a rough week. if you don't know, Morgan had a nasty accident yesterday that gave her a nice gash above her eye. A 4 hour ER trip ended with 3 stitches for my little trooper. I have been lucky to only have a few bums and bruises with my three girls, but yesterday was the first big accident that required an ER trip. Don't get me wrong, I have myself been in the ER half a dozen times in my life, so its nothing new. But when its your daughter, who sees blood running down her face from the open gash above her eye and begins to cry hysterically, it can be somewhat traumatic for a parent. Especially a dumb one like me who thinks he can always protect his daughters from getting hurt.
Fast forward to today. I have a funeral to attend this evening where I am attending to support my two cousins who lost their father. I will see my father for only the 2nd time in 3 years. The man who thinks he owns me because he has the title of "father" to me, thinks he can do or say whatever he wants without consequences. Someone who abandoned me and my sisters, lived a double life, and has never been there for me or my sisters in the times we need someone most. Just because you participated in the act of conception with my mother, doesn't mean that you were actually my dad when growing up. I learned everything on my own. The only father figure in my life is my father in law, Ralph Graham. A man who knows what it is to be a father and how to raise his kids. A man/father/husband I strive to be like one day.
Today, I am going to a funeral where the police have been told to have someone on hand to assist, because the so called "adults" in the family are a bunch of children who hold grudges against one another over 5%, or blame people for the deaths of their parents in their drunken and/or drug induced rage.
I dread going to this tonight because the man I once called dad at a young age is only going so that he can pick a fight with me. the same man who dragged my wife and her family through the mud, saying, with no supporting actions, that my in-laws "think of him as a piece of shit" and that I am "ashamed of my last name." A last name doesn't make who I am or who I should be. I am not a Kennedy. My last name might die with me someday, but when it does, it will not be remembered for the time the police had to attend a Stoicoiu funeral, but for how loving the children (me and my cousins) of the immature parents, managed to break free from the stupidity of our elders, vowed to never raise or treat their children like their parents treated them, and to always be there for their family, whether its blood relatives, in-laws, or out-laws (thats for you Ashley and Greg!).
Some people have to realize its not about them all the time, and that there are possibilities that their actions have caused others harm, not just physically but emotionally too.
