Ya know what? It’s harder than you think. I don’t give a fuck how badly you can picture it hurting, if you haven’t gone through losing a parent or a sibling it’s hundreds of times worse than you can picture. To know that I will never see a new picture of my brother, I will never get to spend a couple hours playing a video game with him, taunting him as I used to in Burnout 3 (awww…do you need your big brother to beat that level for you?), I’ll never get to have him kick my ass in Madden 200x again, I’ll never get another heart to heart, I’ll never get another chance to drink with him and play beirut with him, like he had tried to get me to on so many occasions. I’ll never again get a hilarious night with him like I did the one time I took him up on the beirut, he kept trying to slap me joking around (beer muscles) and went for it one final time, slipped on beer trashing the kitchen, knocking the table over, a huge mess, but a great laugh. I’ll never get to have dinner with him again, or see him appreciate the little things I’d do for him, like buying him that rocking chair for them with Madison. What I believe is the very chair he sat in while singing “Don’t Cry” to his baby girl 12 hours before he’d be taken away from us forever. I’ll never get to see him laugh so hard he couldn’t breath as he did on numerous occasions, the last one being at the big E and especially on the way home from the Big E. I’ll never be able to sit with him in the kitchen retelling stories of our youth together, as I get to see my father and his brothers doing every time they get together. I’ll never get the chance to poke fun at him to his face about how he had a tattoo that took up a decent part of his back, and I had to get the very same tattoo enlarged to fit well on my arm. I’ll never get to bail him out of anything again, I’ll never get a chance to protect him. I’m the big brother, it’s my job to protect him, this time I failed. There was nothing I could do, it wasn’t like before, I couldn’t loan him money to keep him out of trouble, I couldn’t step behind him when anyone tried to start shit with him, and I wish there was some way I could have done…anything. I never even thought about how dangerous the job was, to warn him about it, and urge him to do anything else. But now my brothers gone, and I’ll never see him again.
WHY THE FUCK IS IT THAT THE ONLY WAY I CAN GO VISIT MY BROTHER IS IN A FUCKING GRAVEYARD??!
and this fucking moron who sent the guys out on a roof, when it was raiining a little gets to go home to his family. They shouldn’t have been on that fucking roof, but what does that piece of shit care? He’d been written up 3 or 4 times by OSHA before, never made any fucking safety changes, so why would he worry about a little thing like rain?
OSHA - Occupational Safety and Health Association
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Bull-fucking-shit. They go around, and complain about us not wearing gloves when we use a fucking glass cleaner at my store, and we get hit by a fine, but these fuckers are out there, using exactly 0 of 3 possible methods of protection. Yellow flags, a spotter on the roof watching everyone, or someone on the ground yelling and warning people if they get too close. They’ve been written up for this before, fined, but im sure not much, and didn’t give a fuck to continue to do it. I don’t know, maybe the 15 minutes it’d take to set up flags was more important than someone’s fucking life. It damn sure was to those pieces of shit at OSHA. At my store, we didn’t have an eye wash station in the rear building (we had one in the other building not very far away) and got fined for that. $1400. Wanna know what OSHA charged Eastern Roofing for the death of my brother? The death of Madisons father. The death of Ericas Husband? The death of my parents son? $1700. No, that’s not a fucking typo. My brothers life was worth $1700 to OSHA. So someone gets a fucking eye irritation ranks right up around there of someone dying due to negligence. Until you experience it, you don’t have any idea what it’s like. I’d give ANYTHING! for a chance to swap places with Bobby. I’ve lived well for long enough, he was just getting there. I’ve had money, been successful enough, had enough fun, Bobby would have gotten through this whole drug thing eventually, and would have been a much better person. Madison needs a father…not an uncle. This is too fucking hard to keep typing, so I’m gonna stop now, and edit it later if I feel like saying anything. Just a shitty little view into my fucked up mind after this situation, after looking at some pictures.
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