The night my favorite uncle died
(Shush! Favorites are secrets)
We gathered at my cousin’s home
Prolly 30 people or more and
we drank all night. Beer or wine,
Shots of Patron, shots of Jager,
Or something worse (as if that's possible).
A Toast to Uncle Richard!
A toast,
a toast,
a toast,
so toasted.
I got so hammered
That I ended up blurting
In front of everyone,
to a rando non-relative, who only 'might'
have been flirting, that there wasn’t a chance in hell
I’d fuck him, and not just because I was married.
I had recently quit smoking,
So alcohol was harder to navigate
I had not so recently
Lost my dad too,
My cousins’ favorite uncle,
(Shush! Favorites are secrets)
And all night I bounced from the
Inside to the outside and back again
Looking to steal a drag of someone’s clove
Or hint about finding some weed
Uncle Richard's kids were my best friends growing up
(Shush! Favorites are secrets)
Especially Nick, only nine months younger
We were inseparable, a troublesome pair
Arguing, laughing, fighting constantly
Since the time before my memories begin.
All through the night, the tears,
and the flavor of snot in the back of my throat
tastes perfectly of childhood,
I guess cause I spent a lot of time crying
Sensitive little fucker that I was.
Back then, I would slink off to a corner,
Or behind the couch to sob
to my own little misunderstood self
And my cousins would come,
crowd 'round and demand answers
“Was it Nick? Did he hit you”
Shake my head and sob, as
I slowly realize...
“Did you fall? Did you hurt yourself?”
Shaking head, No words
can’t articulate...
“Are you sick? Do you feel ok?”
Shaking head, can't find words
Gathering my reasons all resounding
'Stupid! stupid! stupid!'
In my head, so I cry
harder, embarrassed
for having no good reasons
And everyone’s staring
caring but exasperated
used to these "tantrums" by now
where I can't stop sobbing
Which embarrasses me more
so I sob
For that
Instead.
When I was ten and
My dad went to prison,
I had to pack up all my shit,
A spoiled “only” child
(Shush Dad! Favorites are secrets!),
into one large cardboard box, and
Moved in with my cousins,
and they made room for me, though
They could scarce afford it.
As the summer was ending and we
went shopping for new school clothes,
and with three of their own in school,
there was nothing in the cart for me,
and I didn't dare ask,
so maybe it was an answer to a prayer
when my mom found out I was living there
Dad hadn't kept her abreast of his prison predicament.
Surprise!!!
My mom had just called to tell me that
in a few weeks she was moving to Oklahoma
with her new husband.
But then I guess she realized
maybe she had some responsibility to care
for me and offered to take me along
They gave me the choice
stay
or go away from everyone
and everything I'd ever known.
Like I actually had a choice...
And I wanted to stay desperately,
But how can one not choose their Mom
(shush! Favorites are secrets)
My cousin Sha said if I left,
she’d never forgive me
and I knew she didn’t mean it,
not really, she was only sixteen,
And they couldn’t afford me anyway,
but our relationship never recovered.
So Mom spirited me away to the
Dusty red earth of Oklahoma
devoid of ocean views and cousinless
And when we moved back to Texas
Less than two years later,
Bubbling with tween awkwardness,
I visited my cousins so joyfully
delighted and home.
“Boobies and everything”
Uncle Richard said when he saw me again,
Eternally embarrassing
every time the memory plays
Every.
Damn.
Time,
Thanks, Uncle Richard.
So the night he died,
Toasts to him,
"Boobies and everything!"
slamming shots
and I spent more time with
the cousins than I had in years.
Glad for the drinks, cause of nerves
steeping in intense awareness
of my father’s terrible absence
mingling
with their father's terrible absence
And choking on the solitude
I’d endured since
with everyone silent
At unjustified accusations.
The drinks weren't ideal.
I lost control of my barely veiled
internal chaos, immersed in so much
family and feelings.
Stealing away to cry,
like when I was a kid
hoping I wouldn’t be noticed
(but also wishing for comfort)
My favorite living uncle followed
As I feebly fought my grief.
He hugged me tight
as I bawled into his chest
“It’s not my turn.”
Desperate not to be selfish
Not to make it about me,
I knew the pain of such a loss as this
And I begrudged them no attention
My every wish, some consolation,
a memory with a smile,
a sign from the universe.
My favorite living uncle patted my back
And murmured kindness
I couldn’t really hear
Swelling tsunami inside
Drowning my thoughts
Whirlpools of
“It’s not my turn,
it’s not my turn
It’s not my turn”
Churning within
I blubbered hopelessly
and got his tie covered in snot
Probably ruined it
Inadvertently.
Pathetic for a grown-ass adult
still juggling all this ridiculous
sensitivity
Late into that night,
as the drunken grieving
Wound down I was talking
heart to heart with Nick
just like true friends can do,
heart to heart intense
with love and feels and
then realized Sha was just staring.
She looked at me
wonderous-like and said
“You haven’t changed”
I cocked my head,
unsurprised
And nodded.
“You’re exactly the same”
She reiterated
incredulous that
Inside me
the same old me
Same I ever was,
Same I’ve always been
(Shush! Favorites are secrets)
Caught in my feelings
holding back tears
Sliver of selfish hope that you'll notice
Demand to know "What’s wrong!?"
Cause you really care, just like when
I was four, or six, or nine,
Or any age you knew me,
I haven’t changed.
behind the couch again,
sensitive little weirdo.
Family indulges such emotional
extravagance. And so if you ask
I will I swallow my sobs long enough
To find voice for these tears--
Perhaps uncovering that
I'm carrying on about something
Not worth crying about at all.
(Shush! Favorites are secrets)
