I bawled.
I outright lost my shit.
I screamed a little.
I bit my lip.
I cried. Stopped. And cried some more.
I curled up.
I looked at the sky.
I was mad. Sad. Angry. Regretful. Anxious. Sick.
Heartbroken, most of all.
Crushed to the core.
I knew one day it would come, but I didn't see this coming.
Totally oblivious.
Blind.
Possibly even ignorant.
I said "he's looking well" whenever I saw pictures.
Gaunt.
Frail.
Old.
He didn't look well at all.
I pretended that lifetimes were infinite.
That love prevails over nature.
That the universe doesn't take away good things.
But ignorance is bliss for only so long.
Uncle Phil left today.
To somewhere peaceful, I hope.
Where baseball isn't a sport, it's a lifestyle.
Where horses race hourly and powerfully.
Where hardcover fiction is plentiful.
And reading lamps are in abundance.
"Kimmy Kimmy Kimmy"
I can hear him.
His deep voice.
His wide eyes.
Arms spread.
No one gets away with calling me "Kimmy"
Especially three times over.
Except Uncle Phil.
He gets a pass.
He says it.
Always in 3s.
And somehow it's my favourite word.
Uncle Phil had magic like that.
He was full of shit.
Never wanting me to worry.
(I worried.)
Never wanting me to doubt.
(I doubted.)
Always wanting me to stay optimistic.
(I didn't.)
I'd say "How are you? Are you well?"
He'd answer "Let's talk business, kid. How's work?"
Clever.
Evasive.
I'd thrust my fists in the air
in frustration! "Uncle Phil!"
His smile was wry.
His armour thick,
I let him shield.
Because it hurt less.
And we smiled more.
"You have something special, Kimmy Kimmy"
He said to me over bacon and eggs
at a dingy diner last year.
"You're not so bad yourself," I said.
We cheersed our empty OJ glasses.
He smiled
Let out his signature "ha!"
and rolled his eyes.
"You're something else, kid."
Truth is
He was something else.
An imperfect man by all accounts.
Too angry sometimes.
Too stubborn.
He was weak, too.
And when he fell, he fell hard.
He was a human being
like the rest of us.
And yet, he found time to
Compliment
Dole out advice
Laugh
Lead
Love
Teach
Push
Listen
Suggest
Believe
Share
Hug
He inspired
a girl with big dreams
and zero confidence
to stand tall
to strut
to demand
to believe
to just do it
and get it
and achieve it
because she could.
Because he believed.
It's a Friday morning.
Five days before his birthday.
10 days after I didn't bother to stop in and say hello
To a man I consider an icon and a goddamn miracle.
To a man I owe a great deal of thanks.
To a man who holds vast real estate in my heart.
Something's missing.
The universe is off kilter.
Things are a bit askew.
If the measure of a man can be determined
by the tears on the cheeks
of a girl who loved him truly,
respected him immensely,
cheered for him intently,
believed in him solidly,
learned from him continuously,
Then it's official:
Uncle Phil was a heckuva man.
