I strayed a bit from topic last week, but I had to do the
same again, because this is another death anniversary for me, but for somebody
much closer. My cousin, and eventual adopted brother Lance Corporal Michael
Geary, a Marine deployed to Helmand Province, Afghanistan, was killed in
action, on December 8, 2010. He was only 20 years old and his death couldn’t
have come at a worse time in life for us. My grandmother, my mother’s only
surviving parent after her father passed away when she was 14, had just passed
away the morning before Thanksgiving of that year, after battling skin cancer
and other ailments for a couple years, and we decided to not celebrate the
holiday that year, but to also not tell Michael about it, because he was
deployed at the time and we wanted to wait until he was back so that he wouldn’t
become too homesick and depressed over there. Never ONCE did the thought of him
not returning cross our minds.
See, when he was about four years old, he and his biological
mother, my aunt Nancy, had moved in with my grandmother after his father left
them for a second family he had in secret for two years at the time, and he
lived with her for most of his life, so that she could take care of him while
his mother worked at a hospital. They eventually moved up to New Hampshire
after my family did, living only one town away in Derry, and
we ended up
adopting him for insurance and education reasons, when my grandmother became
too old to really take care of him herself while his mother was working. He
still lived with them for the most part, but we would help take care of him and
our grandmother when his mother was working long hours. It’s bittersweet to
realize that neither of them ever realized that the other passed away, even
though their lives were so close for nearly his entire life.
He grew up in Revere for his first couple years, born to my
aunt and a deadbeat dad. My aunt had made the mistake of thinking that she
could change a supposedly reformed criminal, who served time for bank robbery
when he was younger, and our family was actually accepting of him because he
did work a good job and took care of them after she got pregnant and they
married. However, that only lasted for about four years, until he left for the
second family, and my aunt had to go back to work and live with my grandmother
in Brighton, MA. My grandmother too had to go back to work so that they could
support him, because her husband’s life insurance had run out after a decade, and
her own son, my uncle Eric, had just died of cancer at age 32 when I was only
four, so she started working again at typewriting and record keeping for a law
firm, I believe. After 6 more years in the city, they wanted to give Michael a
better life and to get away from his father, who hadn’t paid child support in
years, so they moved to New Hampshire.
He entered boot camp in relatively good shape, but still
goofy and not totally grown into his body, but when he came back, it was like
meeting a new person. I’ve never seen a human being transform so much in such a
short time; where he had once been goofy and awkward, he came back in
incredible shape, confident, and his face had changed into a very handsome man,
something none of us ever expected for him. He wasn’t an ugly kid before, don’t
get me wrong, but he looked amazing when he came back; everything had changed
about him for the better. Things were like this for another year-and-a-half; he
had girlfriends for the first time in his life, he had received two promotions
in the military already, and was finally succeeding at life, where he once used
to struggle in school. However, as mentioned, it all came to an end at the
expense of a sniper’s bullet, a cowardly terrorist who hid behind children to
shoot him.
It devastated our family; we didn’t even celebrate any of
the holidays, where we had only intended to miss Thanksgiving. I was filled
with so much anger, and I hate to say, but the one thing that made me feel a
bit better at the time was hearing from his military friends that after he was
killed, they scorched the earth all around that god forsaken place; they told us
that nothing within a mile of the incident left that area alive, whether from
bullet fire or airstrikes. The revenge made me feel better, but nothing could
fill that void. For me, I dropped out of school for a while because I couldn’t
handle losing my first, best and longest-known friend and family member along
with my grandmother who raised him, and I regrettably turned to drugs for the
next two years, putting and education to a halt and alienating myself from the
life I was once knew. It took me years to get over it, and visiting his
graveyard earlier today was the first time I was able to not cry; his mother
wasn’t so lucky, and she immediately collapsed at the grave.
Despite this loss, I realized one day that the best way to
remember him was to do my best and make the most out of my own life, rather
than flushing my life down the toilet like I was previously doing. That’s what
made me realize that I was going to follow my dreams and follow a career that I
want to do, not something I wanted to do for purely financial reasons. I made
the best out of the situation and used it to open my mind to the world and the
way things really are and to expand my mind further beyond the limited scope I
had. I used to be an extremely liberal person, thinking about the welfare of
other people, things like equality, but after years of experience, from the
military to my own early life in the city, I realized that most people don’t
ever see the animalistic nature that people are truly capable of like I have.
Most of these people who grandstand on their soapbox, they just can’t
comprehend that some people are just inherently lazy or even just plain evil,
no matter what you do to help them and no matter how much you try to force
equality upon them , so I really began to think more independently than about
trying to help everybody.
Every person, no matter what the lame excuse is, has an
equal opportunity and I’ve seen plenty rise to the occasion with odds stacked
against them, but we as people will NEVER be equal in ability, whether ability
to perform at work and other physical things, or in ability to feel empathy for
others and think intelligently. No matter what you do for them, they won’t
magically change. I lost faith in humanity, and I doubt I’ll ever regain that
faith, and I have very little sympathy for a lot of people, but I’m finally not
afraid to say what I want. I’m not afraid to voice my thoughts, and to disagree
with people, because I don’t fear what people can do to me because what more
are they going to take from me? I’ve experienced more than many do in a
lifetime, and I know that I think intelligently, so when I put that together I
know that I can amount to something, and that’s all that matters. I don’t want
to live with regrets, and it sucks that I had to lose a brother to realize
that, but I have to make the most with what I have to honor his memory. As for memory of him, well, I'll choose to remember him for who he was, not for how he met his demise.