On the day after Thanksgiving, my Uncle Kenny died. He died at home with his two gals - my cousin Sam and my Aunt Janet - at his side. Loss is never easy but I believe that to be present with someone when they transition from this life to whatever is next is in some ways a gift.
My uncle didn't say much, but when he did, it was usually spot on and funny. And he always had nice things to say about my dad. I remember him as generous with his time. I spent the last half of my senior year of high school living with my grandparents. I had had enough of the oppressive environment I grew up with in my mother's house. As an 18 year old, I was very keen to get my driver's license. Since my dad and step-mom didn't live close enough to take me out everyday and my grandparents were smart enough to have other things to do, Uncle Kenny stepped in. He took me out driving and taught me to parallel park so that I could take my driver's test in the spring of 1985. He didn't have to, but he did. This may not seem like a big deal, but to me - by spending that time with me, he gave me the one thing that was missing in my life at that point. My freedom. It was one of the most significant gifts anyone has ever given me.
I also remember him as a loving dad and husband. Sam was the light of his life - he called her Cat. And even though he was very sick at the end of his life, my Aunt Janet and her health and comfort as she dealt with a genetic lung defect and successful lung transplant, were first on his mind.
It doesn't take fame or fortune to leave a mark in this world. Rather, what you say when you do talk and the small and large ways you impact the people around you mean much more as a legacy.
I am reminded of a quote by Emerson that I keep on my desk:
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends.
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition.
To know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
RIP Uncle Kenny. RIP.
1 comment:
Thanks for your thoughts Teresa, they were very touching. And you are right, it was a gift to be holding his hand when he took his last breath. As hardheaded as he could be, I thought he would wait until he was alone to start his journey. See you Sat. Love, Aunt Janet
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