In The Month of May, I Gained An Angel
Goodbyes never get easier, no matter how many you say.
On Thursday, May 18th, I lost one of my favorite people.
I’d like to tell you about him.
He was my Uncle, but he was also my buddy. We didn’t live close, but we were close.
You would have loved him.
I don’t need to know you to know that. You would have. It was hard not to.
I come from a big gigantic family. My mother’s parents had nine children. Those nine children would go on to marry and have 33 children (I’m the youngest of that crop), and those children would go on to marry and have children of their own. There are over 150 of us now (and counting).
Needless to say, it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle. To be another number, another cousin, or niece. It’s impossible to be close to everyone, let alone speak on a regular basis.
But I wasn’t lost on him. And he wasn’t lost on me.
When Uncle Bernie came to stay at our house, I’d sit at the breakfast table a little longer to listen to his stories. When he called my mom, he’d always make a point to say hi to me. I cherished every trek he made from the tippy-top of Pennslyvania to central Jersey for our family Christmas Party. I’d sit with him and chat. I’d give him a big hello and the tightest hug goodbye. Visits were few and far between, but we made the most of what we got.
His last trip to New Jersey was for my wedding.
It was the last time I saw him.
That was over six years ago.
We’d talk on the phone on occasion. But it wasn’t until a health scare landed him in the hospital, and me teary-eyed dialing his number, that we started calling each other regularly.
A few times a month, we’d play catch-up on life events. He’d ask about Mark, and I’d ask about his six children and their children. I’d be making dinner and he’d be watching television. Usually an old Western. He’d ask what I was cooking, and I’d ask what he’d eaten earlier.
Sounds mundane, I know, but it wasn’t all small talk. We talked about everything and anything. House hunting, football, food. I’d ask him about what he was like growing up and he’d ask me about my writing or Mark’s “computer stuff” (he didn’t understand much about programming but he tried).
He loved being a dad and pop-pop. He was a good brother to my mom and her siblings. He was the best uncle.
One of the most special things about Uncle Bernie (and there were many) was that he was legally blind, but he saw people more clearly than most because he cared enough to.
When Uncle Bernie asked about your day, he genuinely wanted to know what was going on in your life. He wanted to know how you were, and he’d remember to follow up on conversations. He made you feel special because if you were close to him, you were.
Words are my thing, but I can never seem to perfectly articulate how much people mean to me. Uncle Bernie is no exception. I loved him very much, and the pain I feel knowing he’s gone is immense. I now understand why people don’t delete the social media of loved ones who passed. I don’t think I’ll ever delete his number from my phone.
I realize not many people have the kind of relationship with their Uncle that I had with Uncle Bernie. It was special and I’ll always cherish it.
And I will always, always, always miss him.
In The Month of May, I Gained An Angel
🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
Such a beautiful tribute to your uncle, your words certainly captured what a special man he was ❤️