Day 297: Uncle Albert

Two weeks ago, Uncle Albert passed away.  I have been melancholy, but distant with my thoughts and feelings.  I have avoided thinking about his passing though of course I have thought of him daily, reluctantly.  I don’t want to think of him as gone.  I don’t want to acknowledge that I can’t drive up Nixon Road to visit him, to hear stories of fishing, hunting, and the Korean War.  I don’t want to acknowledge that all three of the brothers are gone now.  At Mass last night, I cried a little.  I began to finally let go a little.  Now, I need to write.

My uncle was a conundrum to me growing up.  I loved him.  He was bigger then life.  But he was gruff.  Sure, my other uncle and my dad could be the same when I misbehaved, but Uncle Albert held a different aura that confused me.  I am sure I saw him smile and laugh.  I adored him, but I felt something deeper that as a child I couldn't place.  Even now, I can't put a name to the feeling, sadness, pain?  I don't know.  But because of this, I thought he didn't like me for many years.

I was so blessed to spend four summers up at Uncle Albert's house.  Dad and I stayed in the cabin about a stone’s throw away.  I spent most of my time with the cousins and Dad, but I did get to listen to Uncle Albert tell stories of hunting and fishing with my dad and whoever else was visiting for the evening.  I always felt so safe in his home and being wrapped in the cocoon of his voice.

One night though, Dad was missing when I returned with my cousin from a horse ride we took up on the Horse Range.  Dad had to run back home to Eureka and couldn’t wait for my return.  Uncle Albert announced that I would be staying the night in the house.  I wanted to stay in the cabin.  I loved the cabin.  I spent hours cleaning and cooking and reading in my home away from home.  Uncle Albert wouldn’t hear of me sleeping alone so far away from others, so far from the safety.  He wanted me safe.  That was the moment I knew he did care for me.  He grew neared to me that moment.  I remember falling asleep in the living room with a smile on my face.  He did love me.

Time went by and I remember going up to visit with my new husband.  At that point, Aunt Ann was paralyzed from a terrible car accident.  I spent my time visiting with her while Jerry visited with Uncle Albert.  Occasionally, I would hear little snippets of conversation, but I was confused.  Uncle Albert never talked of war.  For over twenty years, I had thought he simply was stationed in Korea.  I never asked about dates.  In fact, he had been in the Korean War.  I was dumbfounded when Jerry and I talked about it on the way home.  I never put together the family stories or his gruff personality.  At that point, I finally understood my uncle.  The puzzle pieces of my feelings as a child fell into place.  He was a veteran of war, and I felt that from the beginning.

After Jerry came home from his tour in the Iraq War, he and Uncle Albert bonded as only two infantry soldiers do after seeing things we can’t imagine.  I was so grateful to Uncle Albert for being there for Jerry.  I loved seeing the two of them sitting together in the back of a room chatting.  My dad told me that when Uncle Albert came home from Korea, his brother had changed.  My husband had changed when he came home from Iraq too.

In Uncle Albert’s later years, he started telling his Korea stories to me.  Never the dark stories, just the stories about the guys he served with, the bitter cold, and the crazy storm in the ship getting to Korea.  I hold those stories in my heart, along with the fishing and hunting stories.  I hold him in my heart.  He taught me so much about veterans in his quiet crotchety way.  And he took such good care of Jerry.  I will forever be grateful.

Funny enough, I chuckle when I think of him and popcorn.  In the quiet of a summer evening, Aunt Ann would make popcorn.  The first big bowl went to Uncle Albert.  He never shared.  He loved popcorn so much.  I would have to smell the aroma for such a long time while I had to wait for the second big bowl of popcorn and that I had to share with everyone else.  Every time I eat popcorn I will think of that huge bowl and Uncle Albert sitting in his chair.  I miss and love you, Uncle Albert.  Keep Dad, your pesky little brother, in line until I can join all of you.