Uncle Barry

I don't often get into heavy things here, primary because for someone who talks a lot I struggle to share my more intimate feelings. I do however, want to pay tribute to something that has happened recently and I've been thinking about a lot.

My uncle passed away about a week and a half ago. It was unexpected and felt tragic in its suddenness. He was diagnosed with myeloma cancer and about 6 weeks, 4 surgeries, and one round of chemo later he was gone. He was 62 years old.

My feelings about this have been surprisingly raw. I wasn't as close to him as some, but as we have all shared stories and gathered together as family it has become increasingly obvious that he was someone that we all counted on as always being there. My world feels somehow lonelier for him not being in it. Even if we only saw each other a few times a year, it was comforting to tell people that my uncle lived down the street, or to pass by him and wave "hello" at the grocery store. I knew that if I went to a BYU game with my kids there was always a good chance that we might run into him there. But ultimately he is someone that I knew I could count on if I ever needed him, and he was a link to my family and my childhood.

I have so many memories of him from every part of my life.
I remember being a small child and the cousins playing in the backyard at my grandparent's house while the parents talked and laughed at the kitchen table.
I remember when he organized us to work in our grandparent's garden and I faked being sick to get out of it. He looked at me and said, "If you are too sick to work, you are too sick to have a party afterward." I thought he was the meanest person ever, but now I have to laugh because I would say the exact same thing.
I remember being an annoying teenager and him lending me his car and money to buy everyone ice cream just so that I would go away and quit driving everyone crazy with my complaining.
I remember him taking us to my cousins' soccer games and cheering, then taking us all out for hamburgers afterwards. When I felt bad that I didn't have money he hugged me and said that it was fun for him to get to take us out because he didn't get to do things like that for us often.
I remember him letting me come and borrow things during college, having me over for thanksgiving, building gingerbread houses, and giving me rides to the airport.
I remember going to his house with my mom and sitting down, just the three of us, and watching a movie together. I can even remember the movie.
I remember him coming to my wedding and helping with whatever needed doing. He and his family were a tornado of manpower.
I remember him remodeling his house and building his deck, watching every sports game or news program I could think of, and listening to political shows.
I remember his big booming laugh and how sometimes he would smile and stick out his tongue a little.

I was talking about all of this to Hubs and he wondered if this is how every generation feels as people begin to move on. Slowly but surely we will be all that is left of our history and it's a bit scary and lonely. I am not ready. I will miss him.

This experience has really driven home the feeling of family for me. I have let myself be pulled to far from my family and my roots. I have missed them and missed a part of myself by not being around them more. I need to do better to connect to the amazing people that have shaped my life and not take for granted that they will always be there to get to "someday."

I am grateful for the knowledge that we will see him again and that our Heavenly Father has a plan. We don't grieve for him, we know he is busy and pain free and watching over his family. We grieve for us.