Familiar Fragility

The old phrase goes as such, "no news is good news..." I must concur. I bet their are some people who get accustomed to getting good news from the home-front when they're abroad; I've never been that person. With 99.9% of your living relatives being senior citizens a call from home isn't usually something that's direly-anticipated; I love to hear from them, but primarily when things are good. Nothing in life comes before my family and that's clearly known to all those dear to me; however, as much as I love my family I can't protect them from everything.

My Uncle Ray is my best friend. He has been ever since my father passed away back in 2001 during my sophomore year in high-school. Unc, who was born in mid-October of 1934 has seen a lot of things in life. Was a kid during WWII, was a soldier in the Korean War, lost a brother in Vietnam, and watched the first man walk on the moon. He drove cross-country for Allied Van Lines as a long-haul truck driver for well over 25 + years and did so with enjoyment; always calling home to speak to us kids (his nieces and nephews). After retiring when I was in the 6th grade Unc would be at my house every morning to have coffee with my dad before work; they were the closest of brothers.

My dad's death really hit my Unc hard; it rocked his paradigm and left him feeling like the rest of us, hopeless. Unc remained as a strong source of encouragement throughout that tragedy and continued on as the back bone of our family; even when we all felt spineless and embedded with sorrow. Unc stayed in Spokane and was always, like my Aunt Benita, a sure place to stay and a guaranteed good laugh, a pedestal of love to rest upon when weary. Unc has always had a good heart; metaphorically, but not physically.

Males in my family have multiple patterns. First, they all have receding hairlines at birth (blessing and a curse...). Secondly, they all have a great sense of humor (I don't mean to brag, but...). And last but not least, they all have genetically inherited or developed heart problems (not good...). I have to admit that I can't blame the cardiovascular related issues primarily on genetic-malfunctions; their have been numerous additional factors that I'm sure played their significant roles in the issues. For instance, my father who passed in 01' due to post-surgery strokes had multiple heart attacks and a major bypass surgery earlier in life (1990's, in his 50's). My Uncle Jim had multiple strokes as well and suffered substantial cardiovascular damage in his life, also during his 50's. And lastly but not least, Unc, has had multiple heart attacks as well as an angioplasty surgery and a Quadruple Bypass back in the mid 90's when he was in his 60's.

So, being a 25 year old 300lb male in the Strength family was like trading needles in Africa; a near death sentence. Their are easier and more entertaining ways to die if one wanted to so badly; like a trapeze accident or trying to wrestle a black bear just so you can hug a cub. I don't want to die, so, that's why I've completely changed my life in the past four months; eating healthy, working out intensely and often, and fighting to regain good health. However, my Uncle Ray, ( *Unc* ) has been battling a lot on the home-front to regain some health for himself as well. Unc isn't as fortunate as I am. He doesn't have youth on his side.

I've talked with Unc on the phone almost everyday for about the last 6 or 7 years; practically ever since I left Spokane for Eugene, and continued doing so when I made the transition to Los Angels last year. The conversations vary; everything from a simple two-minute check up to a two-hour story telling session. However, none of them are meaningless; they all serve an important purpose, they unite whats separated and help make a bond grow despite a lack of geographical closeness. I've always had the thought in the back of my mind that the reality of his age and mine, being so drastically different, would catch up in a painful way. That all seemed to become more real and raw last night after receiving a call from him about some bad news from the doctor.

Apparently Unc is on some borrowed time. It's hard to even type this. It feels as if the numbness from my hands isn't temperature related, but more so an internal response to the facts they transpose into this blog. He is in what appears to be the late stage of congestive heart failure; the left side of his heart is failing to produce and perform, practically dormant. It was devastating to digest his sorrow through said-words from so far away; just holding a phone to my ear when I'd rather be holding him close. To think he sits there night after night by himself, watching TV, now with all this news on his mind I just attempt to put myself on an emotional level in juxtaposition with him; perhaps bare some of the burden so he needn't not carry it all on his own.

I think about the fragility of life, wanting to hold close to me those I love all the while realizing we are all on 'borrowed-time' so to speak. It is when we hold life with a closed grip instead of an open hand that we forget the vulnerability of life is exposed primarily in death. Our culture embraces life and fears death; but perhaps life should be a bit more feared and death should be a bit more appreciated. I think if we had a higher view of the importance of each life, we would see death as more of a blessing than a curse. So, here I sit thinking about how the reality of death isn't as painful as the reality of regret. Its the one thing I didn't have to deal with after my father died was regret; I knew how much I loved him, I told him everyday and never forgot to make it known.

So, I'll call my uncle on the phone tonight and he'll give me hell about how even though he had lasik surgery he still thinks I'm ugly. He will try and convince me to send him some money even though he has plenty; just to see if I'm a pushover. I'll listen as he tells me some of the same stories he's told me a hundred times about how he and my dad beat the hell out of people in the south when they were tanked out drunk at the local vets clubs, when they were kids. He will ask me about my day, I'll tell him, and he will listen. He will encourage me in my endeavors instead of challenging my calling; he will love me despite my failures and flaws, which are often times mightily evident. He wont tell me he's busy. He won't make excuses on why he doesn't have time to talk; or act preoccupied. He is my best friend because as much as I disappoint him, let him down, rush him, forget to call him, he would rather forget it and move on than use it to regress a progressive relationship; he loves me as is. "As-is". What a beautifully intriguing concept; to think someone can so unselfishly love us, a great lesson to be learned by this example.

I hope that whoever you hold dearly in life that you hold, dearly. I know that in his current stage my Unc could have a month, or a year, or ten years, and it isn't depending on a heart so much as a creator. We all are on "borrowed time"and should act accordingly. I'm encouraged by the news we've received this week and refuse to be defeated by grief when I should be overwhelmed by grace. I will appreciate every last minute I have with my Unc and will never forget how much he's influenced my life and made me a better person by being far above average and always choosing to do what's right despite trials and tribulations. And remember folks, shortcuts, aren't.