My dad...he was too young. He was only 33. The story was, he had taken his daily medication [apparently, too much of it], fallen asleep, and never woke up. It was never decided if it was suicide or accidental. I still blame my 'uncle'. I hate that man with ever single fiber of my body.

His name is Shaun. He was my dad's brother, of course, and he had taken my dad into his home since my dad was about to move into a new home and didn't have a place to stay at that current placement of time. Now, Shaun, he smokes marijuana, or weed if you're not familiar with the correct term, but still keeps a stable job and household for himself, his wife [a true bitch], and three children. The night my father had died, Shaun and Shanda [the bitch wife] had been smoking weed. Many people suspect that they knew something was wrong with my dad, but didn't called 911 because of that choking stench. They could have possibly saved him, but decided to save their own dirt grit, low life hides. And get this; they didn't give me my own father's belongings. They locked everything up their garage and sold it all in a yard sale some months later during the summer[He died February 11, three days before Valentine's Day and 32 days before my twelfth birthday]. And just to make this little sick plot even better, the one time I've seen Shaun within the past four years, he was wearing one of my dad's shirts. My dad's favorite one, to be exact, the dark green one. I swear...I had never had more of an urge to rip and scream at someone in my life. The fucking bastard...

Another fact...My dad had had a chance of life after he had been rushed to the hospital. They could have jolted him, but didn't. The outcome would had been permanent disabilities, he would of been forced to live in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I can't even imagine that...

He was such a lively guy. Always concocting new ideas, fishing on a daily basis [his love of his life was just sitting contently on the shore of some random pond out in the middle of nowhere with his fishing pole], making up new recipes by throwing random ingredients in a pot, committing a crime or two in a drunken stupor, laughing at me while I fail'd at Kingdom Hearts [He was the reason I fell in love with the game. I had no idea of what it was...I had wanted Grand Theft Auto xD I ended up with Kingdom Hearts for Christmas, I was so upset]. He was absolutely amazing...I know I'll never met someone like him ever again. So mischievous and kind hearted with the occasional twist of ass kicking awesomeness-- Scratch that. He was always ass kickingly awesome. I still get upset whenever someone calls me one of the nicknames he used to call me [Kid, chief, boss, squirt, ect.] So, concluding this block of my life, rest in peace daddy. Tell Grandma, Poppy, Brendon, and Michael Jackson I said hi for me.

If you read that whole thing...I fucking love you. Seriously.
Do me a favor, Atheist or not, pray for the Jackson family, your own family, and, most of all, the families of the troops across seas [Especially if you have family over there, like myself. Be careful, Rock.]