What do you say to a man who has no idea what he means to you? What do you say to a man who means the world to you?
There is a man who is reading this right now, and he has no idea it's about him... yet. He's a dad. But he's not just any dad.
He's my friend. He's my uncle. He's my godfather.
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| Me and U.N. at my 29th Smurfday party |
He has perhaps shown me how to be a dad, in good times and in bad - the worst, in fact - more than any other dad I know. Including my own dad.
This is not to criticize my dad. He was intimidating, unapproachable, and generally surly for most of my childhood. Then I went to college and he started to become the dad I choose to remember most. The loving, caring, open, honest, understanding, patient guy who died just as our relationship - just as our friendship - was starting to bud into what it would have been had he lived for a couple more decades. How wonderful that would have been.
In his absence, I guess I've chosen my uncle as my de facto dad. I've shared a bond with this uncle since I was a boy. Ever since I reminded him one Christmas that he was my godfather, and he went out of his way from then on to make a big deal out of me.
Most important, this one uncle possesses most of the qualities I wish to emulate as a dad.
He loves his four sons, but I've never seen him dote over any of them. He's tough, but fair. He's honest and involved and he cares. You can just tell.
His son who is closest to my age is one of my dearest cousins. He's three years older than me, and would routinely beat the crap out of me growing up. In the pool, on the baseball field, in the rec room. Indoors, outdoors, on dry land or in the water. He tormented me.
One Easter, that cousin brought a bunch of baseball equipment for all of the cousins to play a game before dinner. Including my brother and myself, there are thirteen male cousins on my mom's side. Ten of us made that fateful trip to the park to play ball that day.
When dinner came, we went and ate. But left the equipment behind. You just don't do that in West Paterson, NJ. When we returned an hour later, it was all gone. Except the pencil with which we kept score. My uncle then administered the beating that to this day is known as the Easter Day Massacre. And to tell you the truth, I loved every minute of it.
Please understand, when I say "beating," I'm talking about a few smacks and some hair pulling. Our dads grew up in a different time, and were raising kids in a different time. And while I do not condone hitting children and do not do it myself, in hindsight I don't consider this abuse. It was their kind of discipline.
That being said, our dads eventually mellowed out. Morale apparently improved, because the beatings stopped. And they became real people to us. They started hugging us. And kissing us. And asking us about our days, and about work, and about our girlfriends and eventually our wives.
And with my dad gone that's what my uncle does. Without fail every time I see him he will ask me about my job. And he listens. He remembers my last job was a nightmare, and that my current one is going really well. He asks about my wife's job too.
But perhaps more important to me than that, he's a fan of my blog. He's a follower. He mentions specific posts and particular topics. After I emailed him my "traditions" post from a few weeks ago where I wrote about my family's Christmas Eve, he simply replied, "That was great!" You can read it here.
He knows just when and how to encourage me.
Since I've been posting more often the last few months as my blog has grown, he told me he's having a hard time keeping up. "I'm just going to have to wait for the book," he tells me. He knows that's my goal.
He is an avid reader. Of anything he can get his hands on. So that he reads me is a huge compliment. One day, he made a comparison. "Hey, Justice," he said. (He's the only person who calls me "Justice" and I love that.) "You ever hear of Bill Bryson?"
"Uh, the best-selling critically-acclaimed author of A Walk in the Woods, among many others? Yeah, Unc... you could say I've heard of him. " I was being a wisea$$.
"Well, your writing reminds me of his," he said. "You can take something so small and routine, like eating a hot dog, and make it interesting and funny. And he does the same thing." Holy sh!t did he just say that?
Considering the source, that was one of the most amazing, inspiring compliments I've ever received in my life.
You may be thinking he's only saying these things because he's my uncle, my godfather, and he loves me. But I'm telling you the men in my family don't just hand out compliments like Jolly Ranchers. They mean what they and they say what they mean.
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| Handing out cash to the kids at a christening |
My uncle is still the same good-natured, tough yet approachable man I've always known. Instead of digging in his pockets to give me whatever cash he has on hand, he now does that for the Peanut and the other kids in her generation.
But he's a little different now. A little sadder.
A little more than two years ago, he and my aunt lost one of their sons to lung cancer. F*cking cancer. It was heartbreaking to watch my cousin die and it was equally heartbreaking to watch my aunt and uncle powerless to stop it.
At my cousin's funeral, my uncle made a brief speech. He stood at the altar in front of all of these tear-stained faces, and he thanked everyone. He told everyone that somehow, some way, he and my aunt would find their strength and their faith again. He fought tears as he said it. You could tell he didn't plan to say anything, didn't write anything down. He just spoke from his heart. His broken heart. And it was one of the most powerful speeches I've ever seen.
Still to this day I cannot comprehend the sadness, the loss, the hopelessness. Sometimes I still see it on his face. Sometimes during moments of family hilarity I see his inner optimist return. You might hear from another room his instantly recognizable laugh that turns into a hacking cough and run in from wherever you are and drop whatever you're doing just to see what it was to make him laugh so hard again.
When my wife and I were leaving the lunch they held at my cousin's favorite hang-out after the funeral, I sought out my uncle. I gave him a big hug and a kiss (now commonplace in our family). I held on tighter and longer than I ever had.
What do you say to a man who has no idea how much he means to you? Who means the world to you? What could you possibly say to him to begin to relieve a morsel of the pain he is feeling on what surely is one of the darkest days of his life?
Conjuring up enough strength to ensure my voice wouldn't crack, I got into this ear and said, "I love you, Unc. You're the best dad I know."
**Thanks for reading, and for voting for me (JUSTIN) to be the first BLOGGER IDOL!**
Judges Comments:
"Wow, what a tribute to a man you love. This is a beautiful piece and really is a perfect showcase of the writing you do. It was funny, reflective, touching, and real. And it almost started to melt my frosty little heart for a moment, darn you! It's you writing like this that has put you in the finale of Blogger Idol. Well done! "
Random Girl, Random Girl Blog
"You have done a great job here at showing the world not only yourself through your writing but also how you feel about your uncle. You have done a great job at not only explaining, but truly sharing your uncle with us and your feelings for him truly flow from your words. It is through writing like this, like Random Girl mentioned, that has placed you in the finals! "
Chris, Dad of Divas
"Wow, just wow. An amazing tribute to an amazing man in your life. This was easy to read and follow and i just wanted more. It was funny and heartfelt. Your writing in inspiring. Great job! "
Erica, Good Job Momma
"Technique 5/5. Voice 5/5. Spirit 5/5.
Best post.
I wasn't sure considering Mama Spaghetti did some of her best work in this category of the assignment. But you put in a deep link which shows a real handle on technique.
You also managed to give cynical ol' me the chills. Which takes effort and style. Also not something you've managed to this point.
Good job. "
Allison Duncan, The Nerd Connection
"I agree with Mama Mash. It is hard to criticize. The only thing that I see that you could have done differently though, is that before you got to the part about your cousin dying, maybe shorten it somewhere. Somehow. It just got a little wordy, and as great as the meaning behind the post was, I was starting to lose interest. I love that he calls you Justice. I'm glad that you decided to go with doing this, instead of using the post from your blog. This shows a different side of you."
Heather Reese, My Husband Ate All My Ice Cream
"Awesome post. Amazing. And I have to admit that I was fighting back tears toward the end, but in my defense I'm an emotional sap right now anyway. I think it did get just a *smidge* long, but not so long that I lost interest. Excellent work!"
Amy, Non-Stop Mom
"Beautiful. Simply awesome. I can say no more."
The Dude, The DaddyYo Blog
Peer Judges:
"Well, you did it alright. You went and made Mommy in Law all choked up and teary eyed (you big poopyhead)! WOW is really all I can say here. Having lost a parent, I totally get it. In the words of Randy Jackson: "You want to win this DAWG!" Well done, Justin."
Roni, Mommy In Law
"It's hard to criticize a post where a man pays tribute to another man. There always seems to be something so sacred in the sentiment. Great job."
Mama Mash, Mama Mash
"What can I say Justin? I have always been a fan of yours, and it's stories like this that remind me why. Outstanding! "
John W., Daddy's In Charge?
"Made me tear up. That's the kind of post I go for, right there. You established the kind of man your uncle is very well. I might have cut the section about the Easter Day Massacre, but it does help paint the picture. It just didn't feel as relevant to the overall tone of the post as some of the other aspects. Great post, Justin! "
Chris, From the Bungalow
"I think this was the best one. You really pulled on all the heart strings and your point came across beautifully.
This is both touching and a little thought provoking. I think you kicked this one's butt."
Derrick, Dad v. Autism
"A wonderful tribute to an amazing man! I love how you illustrated all the different facets of a father--friend, coach, teacher, disciplinarian, nurturer, etc. I definitely felt the emotion, although I think it was clouded by the wordiness (often less is more when conveying feelings). I would suggest that a more succinct, concise version would have been a little more effective. Still, overall, it was good work and I have no doubt that your uncle will be incredibly touched by this!"
Chess, Chester the Best-er