Uncle Walter was not my uncle. He was the first husband of my mother. He was the father of my brothers. Most people don’t get to really know the ex-spouse of their parents let alone develop a relationship with them but Uncle Walter was a special man and we are a very special family.
I grew up knowing that my brothers had a different father than I did although I didn’t really understand it. I would go through these bouts of deep anxiety that my brothers wouldn’t love me as much as they loved each other because I was only their HALF sister. We never used that word in our house growing up so I am not sure how the notion got in my head but every once in while it would gnaw on me. I didn’t know what I know now, what I learned from Uncle Walter and his family, that genetics doesn’t make a family, love does, along with red wine and spaghetti.
I haven’t been ready to talk with anyone about what happened in February, not even Gil. I am going to try today.
In December my brother Mike called me; his father had had a stroke and was in the ER. He didn’t need to ask I would go right away to be his eyes and his ears. It was a long night and it turns out that Uncle Walter had not one but two strokes. The nurses explained every thing to me even though they had already explained it to Auntie Leona and Kim. I got to go in and see him. He seemed totally fine, his speech was mildly slurred but he looked healthy and bright and he was cracking jokes. I was able to tell both my brothers that their dad was fine. Mike made it home for Christmas holidays a few days later. Uncle Walter wasn’t able to get out for Christmas and it was weird to have the family Christmas party without him but he was on the mend.
We didn’t know there was a sickness in there and it was biding it’s time. If we had known we would have done things differently. I would have made a point to go visit more. Stephen would have planned a trip home sooner. We would have talked more. I would have asked the questions I have been working up the courage to ask for 25 years. Questions about my mom only he could answer. I don’t know why I was so afraid to ask, I guess I thought it would be awkward for him or for me. But I thought I had more time; we all did; we always do.
The end of January rolled around and I was surprised but not alarmed when Mike told me that Uncle Walter was going in to have surgery to replace the valve they had only put in two years before. There was a bug in his blood that had caused a blockage or a cyst in the valve but it was a surgery with a very high success rate so there was no real need to worry. And I wasn't worried. I planned on going in later in the week to say hi and check in on folks.
Then a couple days later Mike let me know that their had been some complications. There had been some excessive bleeding, they needed to go back in and try and stop it. At noon on Saturday I touched base and was told things were starting to look good. At dinner time I was told that Michael was on a flight home. The family was gathering to say good bye.
A stunned sort of controlled shock came over me as I called my brother in England to let him know what was going on. I told him to book his flight and promised that in until he was there I would be his proxy.
We offered to meet Mike at the airport but he said to meet him at the hospital. I wasn't ready to go up when we got there so we waited for him but he didn't keep us waiting long. We went up together and joined Auntie Leona, Kim & Kenny and Gerry & Joy. The nurses came and told us to come in. I wasn't going to go it seemed to private but Leona told me she wanted us ALL there and I had made a promise to Stephen.
I don't know if I can do this... I don't know if I am ready. I am trying to write this and I can't.
How can I describe for you watching a wife kiss her husband good-bye? How can I make you understand the feeling of helplessness of watching my big strong brother buckle and cry under the weight of his grief? How will you understand that the only words I could find were "I don't understand." as the nurse told us it was over?
I watched a human being die. I was told at lunch time things were looking up and then I was watching him die. It's been four months and I still don't understand. And my heart hurts so much. I feel it for my brothers and sister. I feel it for Auntie Leona and I feel it for myself. I know that death is supposed to be a natural part of life but its so harsh. I don't understand why we aren't celebrating Walters 78th birthday today.
I'm sorry, I am spent. I don't have anything else so say.
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