They Is Us

I have three uncles on each side of my family. They are all men who tried to live in their own way — sometimes encouraging, sometimes unfortunate, sometimes near, sometimes distant.

They have all taught me more in their suffering and endurance than in direct tuition.

Some have died. Many have been sick or horribly injured. Some live but hide in shame or addiction. They have all been.

As I thought about them — what is an Uncle? Why do Uncles exist? — it hit me: I am an uncle.

Sometimes near, sometimes distant. Sometimes wounded, always encouraging.

The job of an Uncle is not to be a hero, but simply to have gone before.

I am in the middle now — no longer a child. There was no event, just the realization that there are those who have gone before me, and I have gone before now too.

I will soon take up my mantle in the stars and smile down.