I look at my past and some days I laugh so hard, other days I cry equally as I think of the struggles my mom had to endure while raising us. Then I think of my father, a man who had escaped from our home to find refuge at another woman's womb. A woman that barred my fathers kids even before I was born. But then I think of my Grandfather, and I just have to smile. I never met a stronger, meaner man, who just flat out made me laugh. Unknowingly he thought me about the world in the short time that I known him. As a man who believes in God and Jesus, I haven't figured out why he would take my father and Grandfather the same week. I can't figure out how I am suppose to process that event in my life. One man was my father figure, while the other man was just a figure. An allusive figure who I never touched, hugged or had a conversation with.