Twenty
years ago, I came bounding into a world of love and laughter. I was the last
child, the last grandchild, the last nephew, and the primary focus of my entire
extended family since I'm the youngest on my father's side of the family. My
parents were young and energetic and had every good intention for their new
baby boy. I grew up with opportunities for intellectual and spiritual growth,
secure in the knowledge that I was loved, free from fear, and confident that my
world was close to perfection. And I was the center of a world that had meaning
only in terms of its effects on me.... what I could see from a height of three
feet and what I could comprehend with the intellect and emotions of a child.
This state of innocence persisted through my early teens, but changed
dramatically in the spring of my years of high school. My beloved uncle was
dying of AIDS.
From the
moment my parents told me, I confronted emotions and issues that probably many
adults have never faced. Death of a relative, and AIDS specifically, forced my
view of the world and my life to take a dramatic turn. I do not know how he got
it but the sickness itself has done a good job in making my emotions
overwhelmed with deep sadness. However, in this case I did not have the benefit
of time to understand my uncle's illness since he decided not to tell me until
he had developed full-grown AIDS. My role in the relationship was suddenly
reversed, because he used to take care of me when my parents were struggling to
handle four childrens at that time.
Where I had
once been the favourite or the closest to my uncle, I was now the parent to
him. By the summer of my junior year, I had rearranged the structure of my
life... as my uncle's illness progressed and he became increasingly
incapacitated, he depended on me a great deal. By the way, he was single and
never ready to mingle. He prefered to live alone and that's why our
relationship were very close. My parents were there to help to repay the depts.
s and I took him to the hospital where he
received blood transfusions or some sort of therapy to treat the lymphoma that
was destroying his body. After school, I raced home to complete my homework so
that I could later go to his apartment. There, my parents and I cooked meals,
cleaned up, and administered his oral and intravenous medications. Working with
IVs became second nature to me. I found myself familiar with the names of drugs
like Cytovene, used to treat CMV, Neupogen, to raise one's white blood cell
count, and literally countless others. I came home each night after midnight,
yet the fatigue I felt hardly touched me; I was no longer seeing through my own
eyes, but through my uncle's. I felt his pain when he was too sick to get out
of bed. And I felt hurt for him when people stared at his bald head, a result
of some sort of therapy, or the pencil-thin legs that held up his 6'1"
frame. I saw the end he was facing, the gradual debilitation the disease
caused, the disappointment he endured when people were cruel and the joy he
experienced when others were kind. I saw his fear, and it entered my life.
My uncle
died on 28th July 2009.
In the last
year of his life, I was given the greatest gift I will ever receive... the gift
of deep experience. I am now able to recognize the adversity that accompanies
any good in life. My uncle taught me about loyalty, love and strength. But most
importantly, he gave me the opportunity to see through his eyes, triggering a
compassion in me and a sense of responsibility to those I love and the world
around me that I might not have otherwise discovered. I cannot thank him enough
for that.
Not a day
will ever go by when I won't miss my uncle, but I am so grateful for the
blessing of his life to mine. And because of this blessing, I have a girlfriend
now. She has taught me unconditional love and to look in different perspectives
like my uncle. I also realize that in relationships now, that it doesn't matter
whether or not that person is truly a misfit or not-the-perfect one, the only
important thing is the feeling, the closeness, the connection. As long as there
is something between two people like friendship, love, shared interests,
whatever else... it is a sign that there can be some reconciliation with fear
or struggle, some "fit" for misfits. And it shows that fear and
struggle need not always win, that we can grow and change, and even have second
chances.
With this
compassion and experience comes an even greater responsibility. Luke 12:48 tell
us "To whom much is given, of him will much be required." As I move
forward in my life, it is my hope that I can begin to see other people from two
vantage points... theirs and mine. By doing this, I will begin to understand
that with my every position or emotion there may be someone else standing at an
equally valid, yet possibly opposite point. And that life, for them, has a
different hue. I can still tell you that I, still misses him. Typing this out
was never easy. But above all else, I am dedicating this blog post to him.
I love you Uncle. Always will and never will
not.
DFTBA,
Dann'
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