My uncle died Saturday, November 4, 2017. That morning, I woke up to a flurry of urgent messages from my brother and mother. At the time, I wished to do anything but reply. I didn’t know who was suffering, or what I was going to discover. My mind raced to find something else to distract me from the inevitable dialing and listening, and prepping myself for the uncomfortable information. My brother told me directly – he didn’t want to type or leave a voicemail with the details.
A day or two later, I had tickets booked and was ready to head back home for the funeral a week later.
Between the news, talking to family members, and making arrangements, I had a lot of mixed emotions. Parts of me initially drifted toward anger, and memories of his past faults. Other parts then drifted toward laughter over fun times we had as a family. Still others were sadder echoes of moments that can’t be retried. Those times where I declined his invitations, or didn’t respond to him in a timely way. The gremlins of regret stoking my tear ducts for a fresh flushing. All of these were there, intermingling with every other memory that came to me, and logistics about cross country travel on such short notice. I needed a distraction.
While cleaning, my eyes crossed the bookshelf where I keep a small photo album of graduation pictures. I had a flashback and my eyes warmed. In that album were two specific photos: one of me and my uncle at my high school graduation, and one of us when I graduated college. Two events significant to me, and now newly significant because of his passing. Because, outside my immediate family, he was the one that came to see these milestones of my life.
Small gestures like this often gain significance during our sad times. As a young man, I didn’t think about his presence those times. I didn’t think too long on what difficulties he may have faced coming to Chicago. I wasn’t worried about whether he wanted but couldn’t come to see me graduate from DePaul in 2015. I didn’t think to send an invitation — not out of malice, but mostly due to the timing and knowing he would have struggled to travel. It’s difficult to think about.
And thru this most recent passing in the family comes a final, and hopefully transformative, realization. Loss is not bound by the life of the loved one that was extinguished. For each of us, it is defined by the opportunities we will never have again. Those opportunities to make things right. Those chances to do something kind, or to share your feelings of approval or disapproval, to become more of a friend, or closer family. Those gremlins thrive on our regrets and every day is a dance to starve them or give them more fuel for your future grief.
We will all lose those close to us some day. But we don’t have to lose a chance to get closer. Take advantage of life, and reflect on what those who love you have done for you while you can.
What comes to mind 