In Lieu of Love and Loathing

Instead of talking about how Valentine’s Day is so romantic and wonderful or talking about how much the holiday sucks because I don’t have anyone to love, I thought I’d skip all of that cliche bull and talk about my dead uncle instead.

He died yesterday. Lung Cancer.

Before you start feeling bad for me, don’t. We weren’t that close. And we all saw it coming. If you’ll recall (and you probably won’t), I wrote about him in my Over Thinking Thanksgiving entry. He was in bad shape back then and since Christmas, it went downhill. When my mom told me the diagnosis, I can’t say I was surprised. His diet literally consisted of beer, cigarettes and lima beans. Still, I felt bad for Dad and Granny and his children. He wasn’t much of a father, brother or son. And I know that sounds rude but it’s true, at least from my perspective. Especially in his last years. He was habitually high and didn’t show up to holiday gatherings. If he did, he’d stumble in, drunk and slurring his words, get his free meal and then stumble out the door. I like to hope he was at least a tad better than I perceived him to be. I knew it wasn’t going to be good when Mom told me about the cancer. She said they were going to try to put him on chemotherapy and radiation and all of that but she said it didn’t look good. The chemo itself would have probably killed him. He was beyond help by the time he went to the doctor. He waited too late.

And yet, I prayed. I didn’t pray for him so much as my dad and grandmother and cousins. He might not have been the best relative, but he was closer to them than he was me and I prayed that he’d hang on and get better for their sake. I hoped against hope and prayed against logic that he’d get better, all the while knowing in my heart that he probably wouldn’t. I especially didn’t want Granny to have to see one of her children die. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for her now.

I was strolling through Walgreens, wasting time because I had an appointment for a haircut that I arrived too early for when Mom called. She told me that Uncle Jim had died about forty-five minutes prior to her call. I exhaled hard. What do you do or say to that? She said that everyone was taking it as good as they could. Everyone knew he was going and it was only a matter of time. In some ways, I think everyone was just relieved that he wasn’t in pain anymore and no one had to stress out about it anymore. I got off the phone with Mom and prayed again, thanking God for ending his pain. I then prayed for those closest to Uncle Jim, that God would make it easier for them to get through their grief.

It’s weird ’cause, once again, I feel like I should feel more than I do. Sure, I wasn’t close to him but I used to go to his house almost every weekend to play with my cousins. He drove us around places. I remember when I was really little and we went to a fall festival at my cousin Kristie’s school. There was a haunted house that I was psyched to go into, until I stepped up to the entrance. I asked Uncle Jim to hold my hand while we walked through.

I suppose that’s the warmest memory I have of him. Everything else is soaked in alcohol. And yet, I feel like I should stop or something, that life shouldn’t be zipping along as it is. I should be affected more. I should probably care more. But I suppose I shouldn’t worry about how much I’m not worrying. I’m carrying enough worry for those who survived him. Plus, how can I magically pull out feelings for someone I never really felt anything for in the first place? Especially now that he’s dead. What good is having emotions for the expired?

This is why I’m writing this entry, to give respect to a man I didn’t know or care for very much. He was my uncle and he was family so he does deserve some respect and this is my way of stopping, of pausing and reflecting on his life and his death.

Just add my uncle to the growing list of dead relatives lately. I think a total of around seven people in my family have died in the past three years. I don’t know if that’s common for other families but it seems like a lot for me, especially in such a small amount of time. Of course, family members have been dying off my entire life but it’s always been far away relatives that I’ve never met or known and now the dying are getting closer to me. More people in my family have died in the past three years than in all of my twenty-three years combined. It’s always so awkward when someone dies. I never know what to say or how to act. It’s tough. Fortunately, I’ve only been home for two funerals. The rest have been when I’ve been here at school. I called my mom today and she said everyone is doing better. I’m glad to hear it, especially glad Granny and Dad are doing better. And life goes on.