Wednesday, February 09, 2005

lost time

a few days ago i caught myself thinking as i struggled to come to...oh how we struggle against our impermanence...and tonight it came crashing down. my uncled died. my dad's little brother. not little actually. 6'7" not little. frank. uncle frank to me. frankie to my dad. apparently dad and barb got the call earlier tonight that he was being rushed to the hospital from the folks home where he was staying. well my dad went tearing off to be with him. more than 30 miles separating them my dad was gonna appear on his doorstep to make everything better or easier or who the hell knows what, crazy love lines that string us up and hold us together.

and this uncle frankie wasn't a real gem or a peach. not really. i don't remember him handing out half-dollars to the kids. i don't remember him patting homeless guys on the shoulder. don't remember him giving good advice or even saying anything all that thoughtful to anyone, frankly. ha. and i'm still sitting her snivvlin and wiping snot off my face.

a few months ago i got a ton of phone calls from him. he was desperate from me to see him. i didn't even remember i gave him all my telephone numbers the last i visited him for his birthday, shit, a few years ago. i brought him a bunch of elmore leonard books b/c he said once before he liked mystery or crime novels...and leonard pretty much writes about uncle frank's neighborhood.

and his voice in my phone lonely and alone. so the next day i went to see him, to sit on the corner of his bed and tease him for a while and make him laugh and talk to him and listen. he didn't look good. i mean, he did look good--he was a naturally attractive man w/o doing a damn thing for it. but he didn't look good. he was sick. and he was losing ability to move around--his great long legs wouldn't hold him up anymore and he either didn't know why or didn't care. he didn't tell me. he just kept saying i'm glad you came. and i'm so surpised to see you. and he smiled so big.

he said, you didn't know your momma did you?
for nine years, yes, i said. i knew her as well as i could. why?

she was harsh on me, he said. i asked if he thought she was too harsh. (i don't know if anybody else in his life had ever loved him enough to be loving and harsh at the same time, which can be a life-saving grace.) he said, maybe. what do you mean maybe? i had asked him. he just pursed up his lips and tried not to cry.

did you ever see a 6'7" guy try not to cry about a 5'2" lady who was "too harsh" to him? it's hard and lovely and impossible to look at.

so why was she so harsh? i asked.
you know she got mad at me at her wedding, he said.
on her wedding day? i asked. to my dad?
yep, he said.

she was yelling at you over all the guests' heads, wasn't she? i asked.
he laughed.

did you deserve it? i asked.
naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw! he shook his head. then he slumped.
and i put my hand on his gigantic paws. his skin was soft.

he fished his wallet out of his little dresser. when he opened the bottom drawer to find it, i saw a pile of adult diapers in the drawer.

i tried to think of a joke so i wouldn't cry.

he opened his wallet and pulled out little picture of a boy where some money should have been.

it's my boy, he said.
the last time i saw him he was four.
the boy looked about four.

he's probably 32 now, he said.
how old are you? he said. are you driving yet?
uncle frank, you're great!
what? you 21?
i'm 32, uncle frank. i'm 32, too.

he fingered the photo.

you're momma's been gone a long time, he said.
yes. she has been.... you miss her, too?
he just shook his big head and his cheeks kindof bobbed up and down.

i almost got married before, he said.
really? why didn't you?
baaaaaaah. it didn't work out.

don't you have any lady friends in here? i asked. can't you go poppin any wheelies and showin em what's under your night shirt?
yeah, i had a lady friend in here. i was going to ask her to marry me, he said.
well?!
she up and died on me.
he was making a habit out of this trying not to cry thing.
you just gotta be quicker next time, uncle frank. catch em off-guard. roll up behind em and bump em on the backs of the knees so they fall into your lap. really sweep em off their feet!

well, after that i missed the holiday celebration this past christmas b/c i forgot my phone at home and i had the wrong day marked in my calendar. i got home to a bunch of messages from my dad and my aunt cynthia and my dad one last time for good measure. all of it too late.

and now, he's gone.

no more harsh words. no more harsh words i wish we all could have had more of. unless, of course they're together somehow and making up for lost time....

6 Comments:

Blogger {illyria} said...

oh, that was really good. i went through a rollercoaster of emotions there. i'm still reeling.

3:53 AM  
Blogger stacy muszynski said...

it all kinda sucks, t. you know... especially when you call your boss and can't keep it together...

8:36 AM  
Blogger momo said...

you made me cry with this post...I am so sorry for your loss, but so grateful you are in my life...

10:10 AM  
Blogger magz said...

a beautiful story, beautifully told.
I'm so very sorry for your family's loss Stacey... but I'll bet Unka Frankies got two long good working legs under him now.. chasing beautiful girls. (Or maybe just until yer mom catches him... ) help your dad all you can hun... and cry all you need to.

10:10 PM  
Blogger shadowbox said...

Very sorry for your loss, Stacy. A man does not have to leave a legacy of libraries named after him to have earned the distinction of a life lived. It's in the little things and in the hearts of those left behind.

My thoughts are with you on this difficult night.

10:43 PM  
Blogger stacy muszynski said...

you guys...make me feel so damn good. thank you all. thank you all. thank you all. thank you all...very very very very much.

10:52 PM  

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