Into the Darkness..

CHARLES E. JURENA, 64, beloved husband, father, grandfather and friend. Born in Dayton, Texas on September 24, 1941. He was raised in Houston, Texas in the Heights Area. He graduated from St. Thomas High School. Charlie was a self-employed businessman who owned and operated his own flooring company for over thirty years. Preceded in death by his mother, Letha Jurena, father, John J. Jurena, and son, John Charles Jurena. Passed away suddenly on December 8, 2005 in Grand Prairie, Texas. Charlie leaves behind his wife of 29 years, Priscilla Jurena of Meadows Place, Texas; son, Wesley Jurena and wife Lisa of Highland Village, Texas. Charlie also leaves behind his two pride and joys, grandson, Jared; granddaughter, Erica; as well as 1,000's of friends. Most importantly Charlie leaves behind no enemies. Charlie never met a stranger and was just as comfortable in the presence of millionaires as he was the company of bikers, he never judge anyone and would have loaned his last dollar to someone in need. He greeted everyone with a handshake and a smile. Charlie was an avid sports fan who loved NASCAR, his Harley Davidson's and was extremely excited to finally see the Astros make it to the World Series. Charlie would ask you not mourn his departure, but celebrate the life he lived to the fullest.

I don't even remember writing that or submitting it to the Chronicle. It was like I blacked out for those days. But someone had to get the body delivered from Grand Prarie / Dallas, recover the truck and personal belongings, write the obit, buy a casket, handle all those details that you don't think about until it's too late. Since my mom and him had been divorced for a few years, it was not her responsibility, he had no living brothers and sisters, so it was up to me. Apparently, I gave quite the dynamic eulogy at the funeral as well. All, off the cuff and straight from the heart. All I remember was at the reception, shaking everyone's hand and them telling me how wonderfull it was.

I don't remember a word, and I can't say I would describe anything that happened over the next year as wonderful.

Shortly thereafter, the cockroaches and scumbags showed up, some of which were blood related. I must say the relatives were the worst. Even though he raised me from the time I was 3 and gave me his last name, since I was not formally adopted, the mounted a legal battle that I fought for over a year before I decided I was wasting valuable resources and walked away. The courts determined I was not the heir or the son of Charles Jurena.... To the court and to the "heirs" I would tell them to go to any of the local hangouts in the Heights and or Memorial area, roughly 500 of which showed up at the service and ask who Charlies Boy was and if he would have wanted me to have anything. You'll find the answer on the streets that he was raised on and where he gave me more street knowledge and smarts than anyone I know. So, go screw yourselves.

Tommorrow will begin the "grin and bear it" season for me, with the previously mentioned events soon to follow. I'm thankful I'm travelling tomorrow, then I dont' have to worry about my anger level or if I'm stepping on anyones toes.

Miss you Pops, everyday. I'm sure you've got a dice game going and your running the book where ever you are.