Happy Birthday Uncle!

My son turned 32 today.  I am feeling a bit over whelmed by it today.  When I really want to wallow in the sadness the basketball picture does it for me.  This child loved basketball.  Looked at the joy on his face.  He could not have his first basketball hoop until he quit sucking his thumb.  It was second grade.  We got him a hoop that was adjustable.  Our friend from Chicago came down and bought him a basketball and spent the week-end playing with him.  That year Uncle developed huge cracks on his fingers that would bleed.  It was from his hands drying out in the cold and the basketball hitting them.  We went to the Doctor.  He knew what it was right away.  We had to keep putting Aquaphor on them.  Telling him to stop playing was not an option. He was a great player.  We loved to watch him.  He was intense.  It is still my favorite sport.  He only played through his sophomore year.  Things in his life starting getting out of control after that.  He could not even keep things together for basketball. 

He was a charmer.  He was comfortable in dress clothes.  He liked to dress up.  The girls loved him.  I think he was in Fourth Grade when the girls started calling.  This picture was before Homecoming.  He was in such a good mood.  I can remember this day like it was yesterday.  He could charm me too.

He was thrilled to become an Uncle.  The Kid is the one that started calling him "Uncle."  Like he is the one and only.  Now the little girls do it.  Tonight all the kids gave him homemade cards.  The little girls were so excited to give him their cards.  He made over the cards and that made the girls very happy.  I miss the daughter-in-law I never had.  I really miss the grandkids that I should be loving on.  I should have a white headed little grandson with a twinkle in his eyes.  A beautiful little girl that would cuddle with her Aunt TS.  The cousins TS's kids do not even know they are missing.  I do.  There are days I am painfully aware of the big hole in our family. 

 

Uncle is better than he has been in a very long time.  That comes with a new set of problems.  When he is well he misses his old friends.  I use the word friends very loosely.  They long ago walked away and have never attempted to contact him.  It was difficult for them to see their smart, funny, friend lost in another world.  They just abandoned him.  He would call them over and over and they would not take his calls.  He would beg them to go out with him.  Once in a while they would promise to pick him up or meet him somewhere and never show up.  It would break his heart.  Mine too.  It was part of the reason we wanted to move him here.  So he would quit looking for the people that no longer cared about him.  We knew we would keep him safer here.  It did not all turn out the way we hoped it would.  We hoped he would find some people to spend time with.
Today was a good day.  He went out to lunch with his Aunt.  Then they shopped.  I brought him home Pizza Hut for dinner.  He loved the gift the TS and Coach gave him.  He enjoyed listening to Coco talk and talk to him.  He was touched by the cards.  A perfect end to his evening was he and Coach went downtown for a beer.  He does not have high expectations. 
A few months ago he started going to my brother's house.  He does chores for them.  He takes out their garbage and recycled bins.  He carries boxes my brother needs for dialysis.  It has been so good for him.  He likes helping them.  They like having him.  Having a responsibility has been good for him.  Wish he had more.
When he is in a better place I am more aware of what we are all missing.  So is he.  I think there are times Uncle prefers staying in his make believe world.  Easier than facing everything he lost in life.  Easier for me when I am able to stay in the moment and not face everything we miss. 
Today was better than many days we have faced the last couple of years.  I can call it a good day when I compare it to all the days that have been so bad.  I am happy that Uncle enjoyed his day.  I think I will take a few minutes when I go to bed to be sad.  To not be strong.  Mourn the loss of the son I had before he got sick.  Sometimes I just cannot accept that this is his life and in turn our life.