Earlier this month, my grandmother stopped by my house. She's doing this whole end-of-my-life thing where she's cleaning out anything and everything and giving away the things she doesn't think she's going to need anymore. She's old. She knows what comes next. She handed me a cheery box of holiday decorations and sat down at my table. She asked me, with tears in her eyes, to please not give up on my grandpa's disappearance. So here I am. Help me find him, maybe?
I was a messed up kid with a messed up home life. I was rebelling as much as I could without getting hurt. Skipping school, smoking weed, stealing money and cigarettes from my mom, going on joy rides when she fell asleep drunk. I wore see-through shirts and too small jeans and listened to music I didn't even like. I just needed someone to give a shit. That's all. Just someone. Anyone. I chose you.