Human Nature of the Stupid Boy

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Foreword I would just like to start out by saying this is nothing more than a compilation of my personal thoughts and views on this fine planet we call Earth. I see things a certain way and am writing this to share the most honest of knowledge. I am at the age where I don't really have wisdom that is valued. I was born on April 28, 1985, I am a 20 year old college student, and I am a complete party animal. I went overboard when I went to college and this is my story and wisdom to give to anyone who wants to go crazy and or any parent who really wants to know what goes on when their kids are away at college. This is completely comprised of personal stories that have happened to me while I was away at college.

Getting To Know Me Better Let's start out just by saying my childhood wasn't all that great.

I have gone through a few things in my life and this information is to help you better understand me and my values. My childhood was cake; I have 2 biological brothers who are older than me, and played soccer. I had a pretty easy childhood with the usual older brother torment. Them I made it to the 5th grade. In the blink of an eye on October 5, 1995, I lost my mother to a freak car accident. It happened on an interstate during Chicago rush hour and there was only 1 person that tried to help her. A semi truck heading North on I-55 lost a break drum while driving 70 mph. My mother was driving South on I-55 and after the break drum bounced over the median it went through the windshield and hit her square the face at a speed of almost 140 mph.

The people at Loyola hospital finally got a hold of my father who was cooking Hamburger Helper at the time and waiting for my family. He and I had just gotten home from soccer practice. After he turned off the burner he told me to get in the car and then he went to find my brother Marc. The 3 of us took a journey up to Loyola hospital where shortly after arriving a doctor sat down with us and tried to explain what was going on. I was only 10 at the time so I didn't get much past she had severe brain damage and hemorrhaging, her left eye was unsalvageable, and they had given her 5 pints of blood in the first 2 hours she was there. I had never felt something so gut wrenching in my life as when the word critical came out of her mouth. I couldn't control my crying, after all, what's a momma's boy to do when he can't run to her anymore. I cried a lot, and I didn't know what to do. For some reason the first thing on my mind was to call people and tell them what was going on because that was important at the time. I don't know if I would have handled it any differently if I knew more of what was going on.

11:54 P.M. had rolled around and she was finally pronounced dead after fighting for almost 7 hours. Marc and I were in the waiting room trying to get some rest. I remember sleeping very well, I'm not really sure if he did or not. I just remember when Marc woke me up and said we were going somewhere. I walked with him, my father and a doctor and remember not really knowing what was going on but thinking we were going to see her. Instead they put us in a room that wasn't more than 4x4 ft. There were 3 chairs and an end table with a lamp on it. The walls were a purple and green colored wall paper, I can't remember the patters though. Marc and I sat down then my dad closed the door and sat across from us. When he placed a hand on each of our knees and told us that she didn't make it through, we lost it. Looking back I don't understand how or where anyone would even begin when you have that news to deliver. What's even scarier is that someone is probably doing that very thing right now.

I vaguely remember the car ride home from the hospital other than it was dead silence the entire way. I think my dad was preparing what he was going to say to my oldest brother Scott who didn't even know we were at the hospital. He was probably in Stage 3 of sleep cycle when my dad woke him up. I to this day don't know what my dad said when he went downstairs to tell him, but I do know that he is a far strong man than my family could ever be. My brother slept in my room that night on the trundle bed because he didn't want to be alone, I didn't either.

The next morning my dad got out the phonebook and started making calls to my family and their friends. Before lunchtime there were a hundred people at our doorstep with food and condolences. I was dumbfounded for the entire week. My grandma and grandpa Mette were on the first flight to Chicago. It must have been hard for them because they had to be strong in front of us. I remember walking into the funeral parlor next to my grandma at the wake. As we first walked up to the closed casket I remember her saying something like I always expected her to be walking me around when I become a dawdling old lady.