KISS, by Raymond
Lookin' fancy, like that style.
Pete Jarrell: August 30, 1939 - December 3, 2024
It's a weird thing to process. Last time we spoke was ten years ago at my sister's wedding. He was glaring at me across the room, angry over my not fulfilling a particularly unrealistic expectation of his a few years before. I walked over and reminded him that it wasn't the time or place for his nonsense, and to stop. To his credit, he did. That's it, our final interaction. We'd never gotten along. He was alcoholic, unapologetically racist, and pushed me away at every opportunity. He was in the same room as my son once, never met my daughter. He could have chosen to live differently, but didn't. If I'm mourning anything, it's that.
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