Do you ever have special people from your past pop into your brain? Even if you're not a writer, I encourage you to keep a notebook for when this happens, and write down your memories of them. You'll be glad you did this, well, probably glad you did this. :)
Last night my Uncle Dale came to my mind. I think I was about 10 years old when he died. He was a bus driver. Had a short temper. He was gruff, rough, a lover of What-a-Burger and Jesus, father of 5, and husband to my dearest special aunt.
I only have a handful of specific memories with him.
One was on my birthday, (not sure which one). He told me I could pick out any candy I wanted from the snack shack at school. I remember exactly what I got. I knew he didn't have a lot of money, so this was a big deal.
Another is him playing catch with me in the front yard. As I now know, he pretended I was throwing it so hard it hurt his hand.
Then there was the time my whole family was gathered at the airport seeing my cousin off to college. It was Easter Sunday. My stomach wasn't feeling well, and Uncle Dale hugged me a little too tight. He hugged everyone very tightly. That was it. I puked right in the midst of my whole family, and on my mom's shoes.
From my memories, he was always sweet to me. I don't recall spending much time with him. He seemed to always be working. But, he did a good job of being my Uncle and letting me know, when he could, that he thought I was special. I think he knew how much I loved my aunt, his wife. Which leads me to my last memory of him.
He had open heart surgery, after a heart attack. It was not looking good for him. In my 10 year old memory, there were quite a few of us gathered in his hospital room. He was alert, but couldn't talk. He pointed at me and motioned me over. I remember feeling embarrassed and like the room was instantly quiet, and all eyes were on me. He handed me a pink heart shaped pillow. (My dad told me the hospital used this heart pillow to cover his chest while he coughed so his stitches wouldn't rupture. I'm about 85% that is not true.) I remember that I cried, but I can't remember whatever emotions my 10 year old self was feeling after that.
I don't have the pink heart anymore. After Uncle Dale died, my dad took me to my aunt's house and I gave her the pillow with tear filled eyes for the both of us. It seemed like, at that time, she should have it.
I'm glad I remembered this yesterday, and I'm glad I wrote it down.
Last night my Uncle Dale came to my mind. I think I was about 10 years old when he died. He was a bus driver. Had a short temper. He was gruff, rough, a lover of What-a-Burger and Jesus, father of 5, and husband to my dearest special aunt.
I only have a handful of specific memories with him.
One was on my birthday, (not sure which one). He told me I could pick out any candy I wanted from the snack shack at school. I remember exactly what I got. I knew he didn't have a lot of money, so this was a big deal.
Another is him playing catch with me in the front yard. As I now know, he pretended I was throwing it so hard it hurt his hand.
Then there was the time my whole family was gathered at the airport seeing my cousin off to college. It was Easter Sunday. My stomach wasn't feeling well, and Uncle Dale hugged me a little too tight. He hugged everyone very tightly. That was it. I puked right in the midst of my whole family, and on my mom's shoes.
From my memories, he was always sweet to me. I don't recall spending much time with him. He seemed to always be working. But, he did a good job of being my Uncle and letting me know, when he could, that he thought I was special. I think he knew how much I loved my aunt, his wife. Which leads me to my last memory of him.
He had open heart surgery, after a heart attack. It was not looking good for him. In my 10 year old memory, there were quite a few of us gathered in his hospital room. He was alert, but couldn't talk. He pointed at me and motioned me over. I remember feeling embarrassed and like the room was instantly quiet, and all eyes were on me. He handed me a pink heart shaped pillow. (My dad told me the hospital used this heart pillow to cover his chest while he coughed so his stitches wouldn't rupture. I'm about 85% that is not true.) I remember that I cried, but I can't remember whatever emotions my 10 year old self was feeling after that.
I don't have the pink heart anymore. After Uncle Dale died, my dad took me to my aunt's house and I gave her the pillow with tear filled eyes for the both of us. It seemed like, at that time, she should have it.
I'm glad I remembered this yesterday, and I'm glad I wrote it down.
No comments:
Post a Comment