I know, I am talking about that picture of me again in fourth grade. I can hear you now, “get over it.”

I agree with you. There comes a time in life when you just have to accept your life for what has happened in it. Good and bad, all those things make us who we are and I am not one to really get mad at my life.
However, seeing myself in fourth grade again…it was beyond crazy. It also pulled up a lot of memories I haven’t thought about in a long time.

I will be completely honest, I was a grade C nerd when I was little (yeah, yeah, not much has changed). I wasn’t uber smart, but I was totally ignored by many people. In school, I was akwardly shy and kept mostly to myself. I had a friend or two, but I was by no means an accepted child by my peers. So, when my dad died, I was annoyed.

I wish I could say that I remember the kindness that people showed me at that time. I only can recall myself acting like nothing happened and everything was fine. I pretended my dad dying was just like getting a paper cut. I acted like it didn’t bother me.

What did bother me was a small valentine assignment.

There were two fourth grade classes. I was sitting in class and it may have been that we were standing for the flag salute or something. But, we were all standing and then our principal Sister Mary got on the loud speaker and announced that my father had died. If I could have dug myself a huge hole to fall into, that would have been the moment I wished to have had that power. Everyone in the room turned and looked at me and I turned tomato red and glared at the floor. I was so embarrassed because now everyone knew and I didn’t want anyone to know (I was the same way in high school when my mother died…I wanted no one to know and I was pissed when people did know. It’s because when you are a kid, you just want to be normal and an event like that changes what normal means for you).

Well, while I was out buring my father, they were all making Valentine cards. The classes were to exchange Valentine cards and they all made little holders to put the cards in. I remember that our teacher was calling us back to her desk to pick up our cards from the other class. Well, for a very unpoplar kid to keep getting Valentine cards from the other class…it seemed odd. Keep in mind these are kids I never spoken to or ever had class with and all of the sudden they are making me cards?

After the third card I was beyond pissed. It did not make me happy at all to find out that I was a class assignment. All of these kids who never spoken a word to me all want to send me a card? Are you serious? Nothing made me feel crappier.

I am not a person who looks for sympathy. My life is what it is and I don’t complain about it. Yes, my parents died when I was young and it sucks ass, but that was how my life was supposed to go.

I don’t want people to feel bad for me. When I saw all those cards…I took them home and threw them out. Those kids wouldn’t have sent me a card if my father didn’t die, so why should I have accepted them now that he was dead? They made those cards because they felt bad for me. I don’t want people to feel bad for me. They didn’t talk to me before he died, then I saw no point in them talking to me after he died.

It boils down to people don’t know what to do when they hear something like that. Take it from someone who had this happen twice. I don’t want to hear you are sorry and there is nothing you can do. What you should do is be honest with the person. Tell them you don’t know what to say, but you want to let them know you know. Tell that person that you do want to help (only if you want to) and ask them what they need you to do. That is by far the nicest thing to hear when death comes knocking at the door of one of your loved one’s house.