It's November, much to my dislike. On the 24th of this month, it will officially have been a year since my father passed away. I'm not crying as much, but I still have my moments. One minute I'll be dealing with his absence and then all of a sudden I'm a mess again. It's hard to believe it's almost been a year. I still miss him everyday. Until he died, the longest I had been away from my father was two weeks. He had his flaws, but everyone does. But that man sacrifised so much for my mother and me. And I don't care that he never had the fame or money, but my father was one of the best self-taught musicians that ever lived. That man would practice the bass guitar until his fingers bleed, and still then some. He taught me a lot in my life, including a deep respect for music. I wish he were still here. If you were hid friend, he'd give you the shirt off of his back. If he didn't like you . . . let's just say you stayed out of his way.
Years ago, my grandfather owned a gas station, where my father was forced to work since he was 13. In his first year of college, my father had to work the graveyard shift. During the night, an old junker pulls up with two people in it. One guy comes into the gas station, points a gun in my father's face, and demands all the money in the register. My father was smart and didn't try anything. He gave the guy the money. As the guy walked away, my father got pissed. My father grabbed the gun under the counter, walked outside, and shot the robber in the back. The other person in the car speeds away while the robber is screaming and moaning about being shot. My father goes back inside, and brews a pot of coffee. He then pours himself a pot, and sits outside with the robber still moaning. As he sips his coffee, he tells the man who robbed him to just shut up and die. HE finishes his coffee, and the robber is still alive. So, my father goes back inside and calls my grandfather.
"Dad? Listen, the station just got robbed. I'm fine, but I shot the guy and he's still alive."
My grandfather and grandmother rush to the station. My grandfather checks the man, and then rushes inside to call the police while my grandmother is freaking out.
"You won't shoot a deer, but you'll shoot a man in the back?!"
"Mom, a deer never pointed a god damn gun in my face."
Well, the robber lived, but he wouldn't have if my father had just aimed two inches to the left. It turns out the man had robbed two or three other gas stations, and had shot the clerks. The reason he didn't shoot my dad? Out of ammo. This is how my dad told me the story, so I don't know how much of it is true and how much of it is a tall tale. But it's still a good story.
Listening to: MeatLoaf
Reading: fan fiction
Watching: Gargoyles Season One
Playing: Lego Batman 2 DC Super Heroes
Eating: Biscuits and sausage