Three Months and Counting

It’s been three months to the day since you’ve been gone and I regret not writing last night before bed. I regret leaving everything these past three months set aside in light of remembering over and over what happened three months ago to the day. The day where you did who-knows-what and took your last breath in this realm that we shared and left. You’re physically incapable of being a part of my world anymore and I am not sure if I’ll ever grow to comprehend why this had to happen this way, at this point in time, in not just my lifetime but everyone else’s who calls your winning spirit “home”. Damn it. I miss you. I miss you more than words can explain and for someone who didn’t see you that often, I surely don’t take what I had with you for granted. I remember months where you would be out of town and they would fly by but your return would be the best thing in the world. You came with stories to tell and laughs to share, a sort of belly-laugh that made the entire room erupt with hearty laughter. I can’t imagine what those moments of a room full of family will be like post-uncle funeral. Your presence was the most comfortable in times of complete awkwardness. You knew how to make the most inopportune moment of comedy, VERY opportune. I’m smiling after just writing that sentence because I can recollect a number of times where my mother would turn her eyes to you in an almost scolding manner, similar to what she’d do to Kim and I. However, it left her eyes the moment she saw your smile and she burst out laughing as well. My wonderful mother found a happiness, a light in her life, that not even my sister or I could give to her. But, you did. A vibrant light that cascaded down on her whenever you entered a room. Despite the number of times, and you would know what I'm referring to, that you would question what your presence meant to my mother and REGARDLESS of them, you meant everything to her. You were her other half in your younger years together--her right hand partner in crime and I can tell that from knowing you in your older years and nothing from the past at all. You were my partner in crime to. Almost felt like everyone’s partner in crime. You related to everyone in a way no one else could because you found the slimmest things from others to relate to them about. You were single-handedly the most inspiring person I’ve known in my short twenty-three years of life. If I could bring you back I would in a heartbeat. I’d wish upon whatever stars, however many need be, in order to see your face and hear your laugh one more time. Hear myself laugh from one of your comical moments, because it’s a laugh that probably won’t occur often in the rest of my lifetime. All of us are tremendously affected by your absence and I almost wish that you could know this in a way to know how much you were truly loved by everyone. I do believe that you already knew that but I had a feeling you were consistently questioning it all the time, especially in moments where you were questioning the love you held for yourself. Believe me, we’ve all got (and forever had) so much love for you--as a son, brother, uncle, man, and inspiring individual overall. I drive by your best friend’s house and I’m always curious as to how he’s doing now-a-days, because despite how messed up your days ever were, you were always there for him on his worst. And vice versa. I don’t see many grown men cry around here and that man’s heart shattered when he heard he wouldn’t be seeing you shuffle up his driveway anymore. This piece isn’t meant to make anyone, including you, feel bad or at fault for what occurred. Because regardless of my pleading and wanting, you ARE NOT coming back. You aren’t going to saunter up my parents driveway anymore with your fists buried deep into your jeans front pockets, waiting for my mom to come outside and chit-chat at the end of her day. You aren’t going to sneak into my back door and whisper “here poochy” to my dog in hopes of avoiding her chaotic barking that would wake my ever early-bird father asleep at 7:00 PM. You aren’t going to make any phone calls to my mom discussing how Grammy has fifteen different plugs hooked up to an extension/attachment chord and she’s a walking fire hazard waiting to erupt. You aren’t going to have another good three years, followed by another two awful ones. The ones where you seem to forget who you truly were and how you truly acted. You aren’t going to go through the times where furniture was ruined, memories were tainted with broken goods and harmful episodes. You aren’t going to go through any moments of embarrassment or insecurities. You aren’t going to continue to question whether or not anyone loves you still, wants to bother with you, or if they’re ever concerned about what you’re up to. Because, honestly, some of them probably weren’t. Some of them have always been consumed with themselves and wanting to become better individuals in their own eyes and if that meant cutting everyone else off, they were willing to do it. But all you ever wanted was love and you wanted it from anyone willing to give it. And I loved you very much and so did your family even if they weren’t the best at showing it. Because like you, they were “broken” too. In their own ways. They aren’t making it by--they’re just as affected by your absence as I am. And yet, we have to move on? Remember the better times with you (I remember any and all of them). Remember what you would’ve wanted for all of us (I’ll write you an award-winning novel one day and you’ll see it from wherever you are). I can’t seem to bring myself to move forward from three months ago. I have a white board in my current office, because I did FINALLY finish moving in with Tyler. I haven’t touched it since the month of July and it’s almost mid-September. I can’t seem to bring myself to spray the Windex and wipe away the square on July 4th that reads “Uncle Ken’s Memorial”. I miss you, everyday, in every way. As I type these words on this laptop, I look over at the man I have fallen in love with so dearly and remember the influence you had on him, He loved you so much, comparable to the love I held for you. And if you thought you didn’t influence anyone in life, among everyone around you, you can bet your ass you influenced him, And I thank you for that. I thank you for the cramps in my hand currently as I’ve found a way to write about you without drowning in blank space among my brain’s synapses. I thank you for thinking of me fondly when I graduated high school and influencing my next tattoo choice. Most of all, I thank you for loving me as more than an Uncle, but a huge influence on my childhood. You loved me and reminded me constantly what a wonderful person I was and despite everyone else’s contribution of that statement, it means a lot coming from you. Because honestly--you are such a wonderful man for living how you lived for fifty years. Even though that isn’t long enough for me, you did what you could in them and believe me--unlike every day in spirit, I’ll see your bald head again inevitably. I’m looking forward to it.