It’s raining and I am kneeling next to my father’s grave. The dirty water and mud swish all around me but I pay no mind. I have so many questions that need to be answered by a man that has been dead for so many years. Do I remember him or only the stories I have been told over the years? I was only three when he departed this world. As far back as I can remember my Stepfather had told me that I was just like him. My Father had been a violent drunk; my mother had endured a life of hell under what should have been his sheltering wing. Just over an hour ago I met my Grandfather for the first time that I can bring to mind. I had asked him the same questions that I was now asking of the man that should have been my protector. Why had he cared so little for his family? A story was relayed to me of a time he had nearly lost his life diving into the sea to rescue a dog, proving it seemed to my Grandfather’s mind that there was evidence of good within him. This would beg the question; did we not matter as much? Should it not have been us that he would have risked his life for? It seemed not. Could I myself not render a reply? After all I’m just like him; this had been hit home hard for so many years. But I had spent so little time with him was it genetic? If so how could I alter it? I had been conditioned to expect the worst in any given situation I was evolved in. The rain is getting heavier running down my face mixing in with the tears I am unable to control. I sit back to alleviate the crapping pain in my legs, how do I come to terms with the legacy he left me? I am not sure how long I was sitting there while trying to make peace with my maker, asking of heaven to show me the route to my salvation. When I left there that day all those negative thoughts were banished from my mind. So maybe my questions had been answered. Many people out there have been affected by the same such scenario, I hear so many stories that could run alongside mine and fit right in. But the fact is who we are and how we treat others is of our own making. Although it may suit others to have us believe differently. The route we walk can alter immensely, just by taking hold of our lives at the scruff of the neck and giving it a shake. No one is born to be bad. If someone out there is making you feel that you are on the road to hell, that you deserve to be there. Maybe they are just looking in the mirror…..