“What I discovered and what my grandfather always
taught me which was really valuable, which was so
important for me, is that one can listen without
asking questions and learn an enormous amount.
–JUNOT DÍAZ

INNER CITY STORIES

Everyone always tells me how strong I am, how fearless I am, but little do they know that they’re wrong; little do they know I have a nightmare of my own, something that will always stick with me. People say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” or, “You'll be okay,” or, “I know how you feel,” but they don't. People repeat the old rhyme, sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you, but they’re wrong, because if words could never hurt me then why is it every time someone says your name it hurts so badly? I feel a pain inside deeper than any wound anyone could ever have; it feels like my heart is being ripped out my chest over and over again. If words could never hurt me, then why am I so torn inside? Little do they know that I’ve hurt myself. I was in a place where I thought pain was happiness. The fact that you are gone now destroys me completely; I’ve asked myself, why, god, why, why did he have to die? Because here I lie, so broken inside. Imagine this, being only eight years-old,  seeing someone you love die right in front of your eyes, and the only thing you can do is just sit there and cry, asking over and over, why, why, why? Wishing he’d come back just one last time, just so I could actually say goodbye. I catch myself crying in silence, asking myself, “Am I making you proud?” Can you look down and exclaim, “Wow”? Everything I do is just for you. I promise I will never give up, Grandpa. I’ll do right by you, and always remember that I love you. RIP 07-31-08.