I hated the eighth grade. I hated that I was too young to understand what I was going through. I hated getting sat down by my parents when I came home from school. I hated how nervous I felt. I hated how nervous my parents looked. I hated how confused my brothers and I were. I hated how my mother began to choke up when she spoke.

I hated how I felt the need to resist the tears to show strength. 

I hated how much I missed him already. I hated how I would never get to eat carvel with him again. I hated how I would never eat that Italian dish from our favorite restaurant again. I hated how Sundays were now ruined. I hated that I didn’t know how to act like I was okay. I hated that I felt like I had to act like that. I hated how this meant I would never hear my grandpa curse out the Giants again.

 I hated how this meant I had to go suit shopping. I hated how my mother was clearly going through hell losing her father. I hated how I could hear her crying in my room. I hated how everyone at school knew. I hated getting asked if I was doing okay. I hated how I didn’t know how to answer that question. I hated how I went to the bathroom every class because I just wanted to be alone. I hated enduring a twelve hour day of everyone telling my family and I “Sorry for your loss.”

I hated that I hated that. I hated that I had no right to be annoyed with that. I hated how the Giants lost on that Sunday. I hated that I was missing school.

 I hated that I had to hear my mother, aunt, uncles all teared up when each one of them spoke at the service. I hated the day of the funeral. I hated how one could hear a pin drop in the church. I hated how vulnerable I felt. I hated how you hear everyone morn. I hated after the mass how Mom said “Connor it is okay to cry you know.” I hated the forty minute car ride to the burial. I hated how quiet the car ride was.  I hated how you could hear everyone’s sniffles during the services. I hated patting the casket one last time. I hated saying goodbye. I hated how it took this long to finally let a tear fall from my face. 

I hated the after party food. I hated how there was no ice cream even though it was before noon. I hated this tight collard shirt I was wearing due to me being impatient at the mall. I hated that I was experiencing grief so young. I hated that it made me selfish. I hated that I didn’t know what to do with it. I hated that it felt like the world was caving in. I hated that I was being dramatic. I hated that I was terrified to return to school. I hated that everyone thought I knew what I was going through. I hated that it was true to some extent. 

I hated that I realized I wasn’t the only one who has experienced loss. I hated that I didn’t open up to more people. I hated that I felt like I had to be the big strong brother. I hated that I felt like it wasn’t okay to be okay. I hated that every time I drove by a carvel I was reminded of him. I hated that I realized that everything is going to remind me of him. I hated that until I realized the positive side of things. I hate how I actually don’t hate any of these things as they turned me into the person I am today. 

I hated that it took me this long to realize that there is beauty in tragedy.