Coming of Age

My road towards wisdom and manhood has been influenced by the people in my life, my experiences, my memories and the places I've grown up in.

Piece 1: The birth of a sibling. My sister.

My body felt a wave of excitement, a sensation of relief and yet nervousness as I walked into the hospital, which had a strong antiseptic cleaner smell. Though I couldn't resist the impulse to stay, even I wouldn't have trusted the patience of my 3 1/2 year old self. The room space in which my mother was in was quite small; I had no idea my mother would be moving rooms for the delivery of the baby. But why was there so much commotion to get me out of there?
My other family could stay, I was her brother. I was so upset by this that I cried nonstop all night long and was furious with rage. My home for the next two weeks was with my grandparents. The best part of the whole thing was when "she came to visit" and accidentally pointed at the Lego toy I had been admiring in the store before for months, which my parents bought me as a reward for "being courageous". I will cherish that experience for the rest of my life. Our siblings are the people we will always have, after. But I'll still hate her and be convinced she is adopted.
Back at the house, she kept staring at me the entire time, crawling over to me constantly as if she needed me, and so on. Knowing that our families' lives would be incredibly altered by this annoying little sister, a moment of great transformation. Like a best friend, an accomplice for my life, a smart entertainer who was going to keep me from being bored in many ways. (Always ANNOYING) Making me laugh, making me angry, a lot to discover about this curious new-born.

Piece 2: Somebody who has passed away. My great grandfather's death.

Being young, I simply did not understand how someone could essentially cease to exist forever. The timing was almost ideal though, since I was on my yearly visit and leaving the home of my other grandma and grandpa when I heard the scary words. When I was about 8, my great grandfather, who was 86, has just passed away. My very first passing.
I used to always go to my great grandpa's house, which was immediately next door to my grandparents' home. The one instance that I can still clearly recall was not even a unique or uncommon one. When I asked him if he had anything for me to drink, he immediately without hesitation made me some orange juice. Honestly, I have no idea why that makes me upset. It tasted lovely as I sipped it, quenching my thirst. When I was just about three, he treasured that time with me. The only thing I can recall from when I was little is a particular time that contributed to my development.
At the funeral, I was so furious with myself but also sad because I felt like I could've changed things. My mum asked me if she should carry me to give me one final look at his face before he was laid out in the centre of the church and covered in prayers. The fact that he passed away peacefully was the only thing that allowed me to stay calm and I said no because I couldn't bear seeing him like that.
Then he went underground, I knew he was gone forever as a human but he's always there for me and my family. A great writer, worker, father, grandfather and great grandfather. I was lucky enough to have even met this amazing man unlike many others of his great grandkids. Now I just have his photos and my great grandma to ponder about him.