Uncle Jimmy

This is an entry I wrote in my diary, almost a year ago. No one has ever read it but me. I felt that because it contains me at my most trying time, it would be good for people close to me to read it--if for nothing else, to understand why I might have acted the way I did around this time. Not one word has been changed, no commas added or hyphens removed. A few of my comments may have been biting or harsh; I was having a hard time, and didn't understand some things that I do now. But all of these perspectives still stand.



Today is Sunday, March 30th, 2008. On Wednewday, March 26th, at around noon, my favorite uncle and godfather had a stroke. On Friday, March 28th, at around five thirty in the evening, he died. Today, at around nine thirty-five at night, I am feeling this tremendous loss.

For me, the worst part is how unexpected it was. Uncle Jimmy was so goofy, so fun, so full of life, that I felt sure that he would be around forever. I couldn't imagine life without him, because for so lone he had always been just a phone call away. I took for granted that he would be there at my wedding, watching me walk down the aisle. He had such a big, wonderful personality, it seemed like he was invincible. And yet, on Wednesday, he went to work in the morning and never came home. That morning was the last time he ever talked to his kids, and probably to his wife. When was the last time any of his sisters had spoken to him? Or his brothers? Or his cousins? Or his best friend? Each one had probably ended their conversation with "We'll see you soon!" or "I'll talk to you later!" Certainly none of them had expected it to be the last time.

But no one did! Wednesday had probably been just like any other day! He was overweight and at risk for health problems but he wasn't sick! Their family had plans for building a house! He had a list of weekend projects that he wanted to do! He wasn't supposed to die when he had so much to live for!

And now look at what's left. A widowed mother with two elementary school age kids. Two kids who will have to grow up without a dad! Forget my weddind, his little girl won't have someone to walk her down the aisle, or to stare down her boyfriend or yell at her to change because she's not leaving the house in that! His little boy will miss out on all the special guy time, like playing catch in the backyard or getting the talk about what it means to be a man! I feel so, so sorry for those kids. And those weekend projects will never get done. They won't see him soon or talk to him later. It's a life cut short, every possibility gone, just gone.

And I keep thinking, who's next? Aunt Susie, the one who lets everyone know when something like this happens? Aunt Mary, my godmother? They're probably both healthier than he was, but they're also older... Maybe my Uncle Scott, who's had quite a lot of problems lately. It's so frightening to think about, because these people are such a solid foundation in our lives. What happened to Uncle Jimmy could have just as easily been my dad. What if he was mad at me one morning for not leaving him any hot water for his shower and then stormed off to work and had a stroke? What if I never ot the chance to say I was sorry, and he neer got the chance to tell me that he wasn't really mad? These things can happen so fast, so unexpectedly. What if we never told someone we loved that we loved them? What if we ended up living with that regret for the rest of our lives?

People complain about the stupidest things. I hear people whining that they're tired because they stayed out all day having fun with their friends, or that they went halfway across the country to go to an amusement park but it was really boring and the highlight of their trip was watching a movie on someone's iPod. We say all the time that our families are pissing us off for whatever reason. But would we really prefer not to have them at all?

No one is immortal. Nothing should be taken for granted. Because in a second it could all be gone.

I'll miss you, Uncle Jimmy.