by Jazper
Everyone has that one person they wish they could forgive, but they don’t know how to do it, so they never bring it up until it’s too late. For me, the was my Uncle Polo.
When I was younger, my uncle would buy my cousins candy or ice cream and buy me nothing just to make me upset. He would pick on me all the time when we were around each other — even when I was with my family or by myself. He would also call me names like sissy, snitch and cry baby. That made me feel like everyone was better than me because my uncle didn’t like me. I also felt like I was not part of the family because no one would tell my uncle anything, like to stop picking on me. They would just say, “That’s the way he is.”
There was this one time when I was about seven or eight years old. I was at my house and my uncle came over. We were in the kitchen with my mom. While my mom was cooking, out of nowhere, my Uncle Polo started to pick on me, calling me names and pushing me around. I told him to stop but he wouldn’t. Then I told my mom to tell him to stop and she said, “Just ignore him.” He still didn’t stop and I got tired of it. So I ran to my room and got my sword because I was a pirate for Halloween that year. I was going to try to kill him with my plastic sword. My mom told me to calm down.
After that, he started calling me little Tyrone and told my whole family what I had done. So till this day, my family calls me that.
Another situation was when I was about eleven or twelve years old. My Uncle Polo came over to my house. I was eating a big bag of chips and he came out of nowhere and grabbed them out of my hands. I got so mad I wanted to fight him. I told him, “Put your hands up!” Then my mom came in the room and said, “What’s going on here?”
My uncle said, “Little Tyrone wants to fight me because I got some of his chips.”
My mom started to discipline me because I was supposedly being greedy. My uncle was silently laughing at me. After that, he told the whole family I wanted to fight him because he got some of my chips even though there was a big bag of them. My family laughed at me and started telling me I was crazy.
Four years ago, my Uncle Polo passed away. If he were still here, I would forgive him and give him a second chance. Even though he picked on me all the time, I’d forgive him because I love him and because he’s family. Everyone deserves a second chance. I am too late to forgive him and it sucks. I’ll never get the chance. I got to live with this for the rest of my life.