tribute
Greetings gentle readers.
First of all I wanted to say thank you for all your support through this rather sucky time. For those of you who don’t know, I lost my uncle two days before Em and I were supposed to fly out to see him. Apparently he was needed elsewhere urgently…which I can understand, since we all found him rather indispensable.
This is also the main reason I haven’t been around much, reading blogs and commenting, etc…..grieving around the holidays, as many of you know, is teh suck. (Not to mention my uncle was, quite literally, Santa for my formative years).
What follows is something I wrote to be read at his funeral. I’m told it was well-received. I’m not prepared to go into all the ten thousand reasons why this man so changed and improved my life, what a dearth of positive male role models I have had, or what an amazing, life-affirming person he was. Perhaps that will come later.
For now, please enjoy this brief glimpse into his character, if you so choose.
When I think about Uncle Johnny, I think of a man with a big voice, a bigger-than-life personality, and an even bigger heart.
I think of a man who nourished our stomachs as well as our spirits. A grower of all manner of fruits and veggies, a giver of paczki, and a maker of a special home-brew he called “Plum Cordial.” I think of a man who loved jigsaw puzzles enough to frame them when they were completed. A man who loved to deer hunt (much to my chagrin) and fish. A man who was also a great respecter of all forms of life…..up to and including agreeing to strategically place a smudge on Aunt Jane’s pristine windows in an effort to save more birds.
One of my first memories of Uncle Johnny is one that also made him stand out in my mind as someone special. I must have been about 6 or 7 and Mike was 8 or 9. We were up north at Aunt Freda’s cottage and spending the night. When it got dark out, I got scared when I heard what sounded to me like rubber bands being flicked right outside my window. I went and told Uncle Johnny. He told me it wasn’t a person outside my window, grabbed a flashlight, and had me follow him outside…..in my footie pajamas. He led me around to the window and shined the flashlight on a few unlikely looking suspects….a couple of large toads. He explained that they made that sound. I couldn’t believe it. It sounded too much like rubber bands being flicked!
“Just wait” he replied. He turned off the flashlight and I held my breath.
For a long moment nothing happened. Then, suddenly, there it was….that rubber band sound again. I knew just where it was coming from. Uncle Johnny turned the flashlight back and lo and behold…I was enlightened. There are toads that sound like rubber bands. Who knew? From then on Uncle Johnny was the coolest in my book….he didn’t just tell me what made the noise, he took me out and showed me! He also took us out at night to show us the deer that were all over the woods. We saw all kinds of creatures and had the best time.
I think back now on how many of my best memories growing up took place with Aunt Jane and Uncle Johnny…especially on Christmas. I always thought I’d get lost in the shuffle of all the relatives and cousins….but Uncle Johnny always had a way of singling me out and making me feel special. He’d either give me a special task to do, or show me something neat when no one else was around. I will always be grateful to him for that, and for so very many things.
Uncle Johnny, I hope you know how much we all love you and will miss you. There will never be another you, and we were all blessed to have you in our lives as long as we did. Thank you for your positive outlook, your wonderful heart, your generous spirit, and (I found this out recently) giving Kowalski lunch meat to the neighbor’s dogs.
You will never be forgotten, and the spark you’ve placed in each of us will live on and reach future generations. Thank you, Uncle Johnny, for being you.
I’m sure we’re all comforted by the fact that you will once again be spending Christmas with Aunt Jane. You’ll both be with us in all of our hearts, and our love for you is as timeless and eternal as the lessons you left us with.