Not all of them were close, but all close enough to affect me. All but one were men.
1) December- A friend I used to work with, 2 years my senior from sudden cancer.
2) January- My uncle from a long battle with pancreatic cancer.
3) February- A father of a friend in my program.
4) March- Another father of a friend in my program and co-worker.
5) April- A young close friend from breast cancer, who left my dear friend a widower with a 3 year old daughter.
6) May- The young husband of a friend and fellow therapist.
7) June- An uncle removed by divorce of a massive heart attack in prison.
Some knew the end was coming.
Some lives were celebrated.
Its sad to say but I don't know if my former uncle's will.
My cousins are grieving, as well as my aunt. Despite everything he put them through.
And it's strange the kind of emotions you can have associated with one person. The memories they stir.
I remember my brother and I were left with my aunt and uncle in the backwoods of Alabama for a few days. My parents met in a small town in Mississippi but my aunt moved away when she got married and raised her family just across the border. She lived in a small cottage down a long dirt road that wound through corn fields. At the end of the road was a large white farm house. It was supposed to be a white house but weather and dirt turned it to a musty gray. The most vibrant memory I have was looking at it from a distance when my cousins and I used to play. It reminded me of a haunted old mansion on television and it was cool as hell. My cousins always said their grandma lived there, but never said much else other than we couldn't play in the field. And they were VERY serious when they told us not to play in the field.
This particular summer my cousins, brother and I were taken to the house because my (now deceased) uncle needed to help his mother with something. I vaguely remember meeting the old woman and I don't think she paid much attention to us (or maybe I didn't pay much attention). I'm pretty sure there were holes in the floors from where the wood had rotted away. The farm house itself didn't have any air conditioning, which I remember thinking was crazy but we all sat around the living and dining room in front of the fans to keep cool. The adults drank beer and talked. We all played card games, made fun of each other, reminisced, told jokes, laughed. It was relaxing. Especially after the sun started to set and the crickets and fireflies came out.
I never witnessed the violence. Although he did drink a lot and was angry a lot and there were several times where he yelled at my aunt and cousins. I vaguely remember my cousins being punished in front of me. It was a little shocking, and a little unnecessary, but my cousins assured me it wasn't bad because we were there. One of the last times was when my aunt began crying to my mother about how she was being treated. They were forming a plan to get her out and get her a divorce. She meant it this time.
I only saw him once after that. His mother had died and left he and my cousins with a large inheritance. They bought a giant house on a huge plot of land. He seemed happy. Jovial even. Bantering back and forth with my mom. The place didn't have much furniture but they were proud of it. They eventually ended up selling because funds got low (or what I heard). The last thing I heard was he had been thrown in jail for making meth in a bathtub. He said he would die in jail. And he did.
Obviously my context is very different from someone closer to him, although I'm not sure many people were. He was a troubled man. I have to believe that of someone who drank to excess, beat defenseless women and children and abused enough drugs to kill a horse on a regular basis. He was running from something, or didn't know any different- which I don't buy. But, he did show kindness. He laughed a lot and sometimes reminded me of a young Santa Claus with his red cheeks and shaking stomach. He was a human, flawed as we all are. And I'm reminded of that most when considering everything he put my extended family through and they are still grieving him. There was something worth grieving for.
However, that's a simple concept to convey that is the culmination of a long and painstaking process.
It's like trying to feed those starving children in Africa a burger when all they can digest is rice.
But can you imagine them saying "Um, I'm sorry, but that's too complicated to digest. Can I get some rice juice please? Thanks"?
Okay guys, Vader, Sidious, group will start in 15 minutes... You might want to change out of your Sith-suits because we're using paint. It's acrylic so if it gets on your clothes and dries it'll be murder on the droids.
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