The saddest man in America

Even Adams believed he was being a vindictive little shit.

 He had been shocked to see his uncle; who everybody thought was so strong, break down.

 He not only filmed it but had added commentary and streamed it live on social media. The subsequent events had set the internet aflame.

 The thing that stood out to America at large wasn't the fight where his cousin beat him un-mercifully. Or the fact that his uncle's bodyguard friends had been forced into action. 

Adams's live feed hadn't captured that part anyway. He was too busy trying to defend himself from his first cousin flying fists.

 By that time others were filming, people were screaming “World Star!”, and the entire funeral had become a brawl. 

The thing that captivated America and the world had been his uncle's sheer pain, the obvious raw hurt as he had attempted to express the depths of his loss.

 His wife had been taking his Father to a Dr.'s  appointment. They never knew they'd been hit. At least the Doctors assured Tyson  that his wife and father had felt no pain.

 Adams's uncle was a bodyguard. He had been for years. At least Adams couldn't remember him being anything else. Except an asshole, Adams always remembered, referred to, and thought of his uncle Tyson as “Uncle Asshole.”

 Adams, had thought he was whispering. Tyson was at the podium. His freshly shaved bald head had shone like polished gold. His complexion was actually closer to orange, or Mississippi red clay but a trick of the light or the quality of his cheap android phone, made Adams's uncle look like gold. 

 Tyson had struggled for the words despite having notes. Adams's mother, Tyson’s sister, had helped him compose the lines.

 His uncle had been his same arrogant, flaunting his unnatural musculature around, asshole self.

 He had been overly touchy. Adams didn't like personal space violation, and “Uncle Asshole” was a repeat violator. He would grab Adams shoulders as a hello.

 Adams didn't like Tyson, and he didn't like Tyson’s son Hatari. His mother always compared him to his uncle. She told him not to worry about being chubby. “Tyson was chubby up until the 9th grade” He didn't want to be like Tyson.

 His first cousin and closest in age relative, Hatari, was a thug. Adams had always been afraid of his much larger, far more athletic cousin. He had been beaten up by Hatari since they were 5 and 6 years old.

 At least his “Uncle Asshole” lived far away in Atlanta. His cousin Hatari lived an hour away in Slidell.

So close that Adams had to be compared to him too. He had to see his cousin's picture in the newspaper during basketball season and football season.

 His mother had just told him Hatari was thinking about playing baseball.

 The fucker was probably going to be great at that too.

 He didn't know what made him start filming his uncle. He just never seemed to be human, or at least fully human to Adams.

 He had been to the emergency room when his uncle got shot. 

 His mother had forced him on a plane,  they'd flown with Hatari. 

 When they arrived at the hospital his uncle had been making crude jokes as if the bandages, that circumvented his torso weren't there.

 His cousin had compared him to a superhero.  One of Adams's favorites and it was fitting. Adams didn't like it. 

He didn't like them insinuating themselves into his world. They were the physical guys. It really bothered him to discover that his hated uncle and cousin knew comics.

He wasn't an athlete he read comics, and played dungeons and dragons.  You shouldn't be able to do both. His larger than life uncle had been recounting a story about working at Dragon Con when his laughter led to a couple of hard coughs that made him spit blood and be rushed to surgery.

 The next day he was joking again. 

When he saw his uncle's cool “Strongest one there is” shell crack. He had reacted. He had been driven to record it. He had said the words that had came to mind. "Look at this bitch ass nigga crying like a little girl!" 

The internet had demonized him. CNN, FOX NEWS, even Twitter, his uncle's breaking heart was everywhere.

 Adams, had been psychoanalyzed by people who had never met him. They questioned why he wasn't sad at his Grandfather’s funeral. 

He was sad.

He had cried at his “Nana's” funeral. Uncle Asshole’s mother, his grandmother, but Uncle Asshole hadn't cried. He had been stoic. 

Looking better than anyone had a right to look at a funeral. He had stood there one arm around “Papa” with his hand on his head. Adams felt that, that was his uncle's way of showing off his superior size. He had the other hand holding one of the most beautiful women Adams had ever seen. Tyson’s face had been stone incarnate. That's what he expected from the man.

 When they arrived at Tyson's house in Atlanta he had greeted them the same as always. He had not let Adams's mother fuss over him. He had told stories about Papa and growing up.

 He had the same easy smile as normal, and he had been actually comforting Adams's mother.

 He had volunteered to do the eulogy.

When his uncle had begun speaking his normally rich, and melodic, voice had cracked. Adams had never seen Tyson cry. It was disconcerting and it made him angry. He had no right to cry. 

He hadn't cried for Nana!

 Who was this Nzuri that he had to cry for her.

 As soon as he saw the cracks in the armor that he had presumed that his uncle always wore, he started filming. He had not really paid much attention to the actual words, his uncle had been saying. Adams, had heard them since.

It seemed that CNN had played the eulogy on an endless loop. His uncle had been dubbed “The saddest man in America” “The crying man” and Adams's favorite “The Gorgeous face of Grief” 

Now that he had paid attention to the actual words, Adams understood his uncle's pain.

 “I lost my hero. I lost my best friend and because they were together I have no one to turn to.” 

An animal sound had ripped from Tyson's, chest and his shoulders had slumped. 

“When my momma died…” Tyson cleared his throat. 

It was evident that he was on the verge of a break.

 “I had to be strong for my daddy.” Despite the fact that Tyson was obviously full grown the way he said Daddy would melt the hardest of hearts.

 Tyson blew out a breath. ”I had help then…but now their both…” 

The fight had broke out at that point.

 Inadvertently Adams had immortalized his uncle.

 “The saddest man in America”