Dilly Dally, Shilly Shally. I am everything and nothing at the same time. I am the knight in shining armor, here to save the damsel in distress. The distressing part? Underneath my helm, I'm the dragon, too. President and CEO of The Free Big Tits Movement.
So many people.
So many people loved my granddaddy.
He touched so many lives.
I’m proud to be his grandson.
It’s missing a bit of warmth.
The funeral is at 11 AM… but I can’t sleep.
My mom is truly hurt. She asked me to sleep at the foot of her bed. I’m hurt, but I have to be strong for everyone.
I miss him. He taught me so much. And honestly, he was my moral compass. I’ve gotten lost once or thrice and he’s always been there to push me in the right direction. He never once stop believing in me. Even when I fucked up horribly, he always hugged me and said “Baby, you got to live your life for you. But do it right. Do it with love. Do it with respect. And do it knowing that your family loves you no matter what- I love you no matter what.” And man, did he ever.
I lost my grandfather on Monday. But more than that, I lost my father. I know one day, I’ll see him again.
Doesn’t make the pain lessen any.
Doesn’t make my heart not hurt. Hurt for my grandmother. Hurt for my mother. Hurt for my aunts and uncles. Hurt for my cousin. Hurt for my sons, whom I will make sure they know how great of a man he is.
It’s weird. Part of me wants to grieve and cry and scream and yell and fight and just explode in sadness and anger and frustration… but the other part of me, the part he will live on forever in… that part is telling me to just be strong and make sure everyone else can draw from your strength.
So, for the next 16 hours, I’ll do just that. I’ll sleep near my mother. I’ll be stoic and surefooted and confident. I’ll be whatever anyone needs from me. And when I get home, I’ll hold my youngest son and be strong for him. I’ll hug AP and be strong for her.
And when that moment comes when all is quiet and peaceful and I’ve carved out a moment for myself, then, and only then, will I allow myself to be weak and cry for my beloved grandfather. Cry tears of sadness that I can no longer hug him. Cry tears of joy knowing he’s no longer in pain and is somewhere fishing and gardening.
And then make sure my family knows I love them.
Addison R. Mozelle
January 23, 1937 - September 15th, 2014.
My grandfather. But in my mind and my heart, he’s my father. Always has been. Always will be.
Love you, Young Man. Always.
77 years young.
He died at home, surrounded by family.
I miss him already.
I’m glad he got to see his great-grandson before he left us.
He was my grandfather, but more than that, he was my father. That man raised me.
I wish I could articulate more, but words are escaping me right now.
Hug your family. Tell them you love them. Never let a day go by without telling them.
You out here doing God’s work.
I’m thankful; you’re welcome.
Reblogged from thepleasureprinciple
Good Night from AP&G. This is coming a little late but I didn’t want to miss a day. This is the little man fighting sleep edition. Shitty McShitster shat up his back so he had to get a bath. It was a new color green.
We got an Instagram now because I want a place I can share with family and friends the abundance of pictures I take of him without being annoying. So follow me on IG @aprilsharniece and send me yours so we can have friends and shit.
Obviously I’ve said with because he’s kicking sleep away now so it’s time to go lay him down.
"I don’t want you to do it like B.I.G. with me: I don’t want you to die for me, baby; live with me…"