Grabbing Time
January 24th, 2007 by rsm
My Uncle Joe died today. He was the last of my grandfather’s brothers to die. That entire generation of the namesake side of my family has now passed on. The question is usually “were you close?” For people who barely knew each other, we were somewhat close, I would say.
Uncle Joe took an interest in me my whole life. Years ago, he “went away” to work for the government and no one heard from him for many year. After he came back he did not speak to anyone of what he was doing. He was a closed mouthed man. Perhaps closed in his heart, though I never knew where his loves lay.
He never married. He never had any children. He rarely talked to anyone.
When I went with my grandfather years ago to another of their brother’s funeral, Uncle Joe and I were able to spend a good bit of time together. And we talked. He asked me about my life, and I was able to hear stories about my grandfather. He also told me of the farm he had bought a few years before. He still owned the property at the time, though he also had bought a city block in the impoverished coal mining town he loved. There were shops around the outside of the block and in the center was his apartment, a large place with a number of rooms and skylights to let in the daylight. The place felt “ultra modern 50s.”
But I never wrote to him as I should. I saw him again a couple of years later when it was time to bury my grandfather. And again we talked. I felt an affinity for him, as if he were someone I would have been friends with if we weren’t related and lived in somewhat close proximity.
Then a few years ago he had a stroke. Then another. His normally taciturn self was shut off from communication. He could begin a sentence but his speech was affected to the point that after the first couple of syllables, nothing else came out. I never was able to find the time to see him. I feel we still could have sat and talked, that I could have understood what he was trying to say. I also look at him and worry about how I will end up considering I am still single, still childless, the last of my line. The only men left from my grandfather’s part of the family are my father and myself.
When I visited my grandmother this Christmas we talked about Uncle Joe and I determined that I would go up to spend some time this spring. It wasn’t good enough.
Often in life we fail to express our appreciation for certain people or, even worse, we fail to appreciate them. Perhaps my dislike of many things familial drove me away even more. I found out from my grandfather before he died how often Joe would ask him about me. My grandfather felt he and I were very alike. I remember cards from him at Christmas. I remember the sense of comfort and understanding I felt around him. I regret never spending more time with him as I should have to express my appreciation for him, but I hope he knows he was one of the very few relatives that was never far from my daily thoughts.
*hug* i’d like to think that, from the understanding of each other that the two of you shared, he knew just as easily as he knew you were in his.
God bless.
I’m sorry about your Uncle.
He must have known. And I believe he knows now.
I’m sure that if you felt such an affinity, he felt it too. My condolences. I’m glad you got to know him even just a little. That never happened in my family.
*hugs*
*hugs* I’m so sorry.
rsm,
Truly sorry for your loss. I agree with the others – when you feel an affinity (and comfort) with a person without a lot of talk, it is usually mutual. I am certain your uncle knew how you felt, and appreciated it. He was just not a man of many words. And contact is a two way street. But he knew you cared.
Now, that said, you are far from an old man. Your future in terms of family is still to be determined. And from what I can see, you are surrounded by a very large extended family – blog siblings, friends and what about all the young ones? They sure do seem to gravitate to you – because they respect you and find comfort and companionship. I have never seen the cabin, but I am sure that the visits you get have more to do with you than with the surroundings, beautiful though they may be…
I am so sorry – {{hugs}} to you and good thoughts on the way.
Sorry, man.
Jimbo
… he’s not an Uncle… he is a Great Uncle…. and I am sorry to hear of your loss, man…..
I’d like to share my deepest and most heartfelt condolence. Sending you a big loving hug while keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. Gosh, how I wish I would have read this earlier today.
I’m really, really sorry!
Your uncle seemed like the kind of man that could love from a distance with great understanding and patience, with an open loving steadfast heart, that never expected anything in return. From what you write, he seemed to have cared for you deeply and for him that was enough.
That is a beautiful and very special way to love.
Hey, I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m cool. Just a feeling of a little bit of regret that a story will be left untold for now.
I’m looking forward to the drive, to the time to myself, to the chance to visit my grandfather’s burial place. I have to miss the graduation of two of my young ones from Ranger School (and they really wanted me to be there) but this feels right. I’m looking forward to the chance to honor the last of my grandfather’s generation.
Aw, that’s sad…I’m sorry for your loss. May your nice memories be a source of comfort.
Oh, and keep the faith, bro. There’s a good woman out there for ya, somewhere.
I know how you feel. My own great-uncle Joe (odd, huh) was my favorite, I suppose you could say. It’s coming up on a year since his death. I too have regrets that I didn’t pay him enough attention. I wanted to record a lot of his memories of the war, the moon landing, life in general, and familial history. I never did it. I miss him so much.
It’ll be good to have some alone time too, what with everything you’ve been doing lately. Drive safely.
The beautiful thing about communication and caring is that often times not a word needs to be said out loud. Some of the greatest folks I have known are big “talkers”. But I still knew/know that they care. I’m sure you’re Uncle knew.
Have a good drive, and be safe.
Oops – I meant “some of the greatest people I have known are NOT big talkers. NOT.
Sorry…..
{hugs} I am sorry for your loss. But am sure Uncle Joe felt the same of you.
I am going to take this as a personal gentle reminder to contact someone I have been meaning to…
thank you fo the heads up.
And we offer our condolences, and prayer.
namaste
So sorry, rsm… travel safe.