(Previously private - reopened.)
***
My Uncle Donnie - my mom’s baby brother - is dying.
He had been having back problems for a long time and had just been dealing with it and taking pain medication. We thought he just had a slipped disc or something, but turns out it’s tumors pushing on his spine.
The cancer is so advanced that there’s little chance he’ll make it. He’s dealing with it well, with good humor and acceptance. But me? Not so much. He’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known, and I regret not cultivating our relationship more. It’s my loss.
Plus, he’s only 46, and he’s my mom’s little brother. Mom’s parents both died in their sixties, and Mom’s now 56. I’m not even ready to think about the possibility…
And I’m thinking more than ever about how short my own life is, and how every day is filled with choices. Every day ended is one less day on this planet, and every day we don’t have the courage to stand up and do what we know is right - that’s one more lost day.
What a scary f*cking thought.
Donnie has lived outside mainstream society for most of his life. He made choices that people didn’t understand, and he didn’t let their lack of understanding hinder his journey. He cultivated an inner life that reached a depth and height that most people don’t even have the balls to dream of.
And now he’s facing his death with such dignity. These facts are connected, and I think when I am able to fully realize that, I will never be or live the same.