2002-04-26|9:15 a.m.
A bird just flew into my store. It is a little sparrow. Employees aren't trying to harm it or be mean to the little creature, but they are wildly throwing things at it and poking sticks towards it to get it out. The whole scene is panning out from my mirrored window up in my small office. Something about it is pushing me to the verge of tears. He just flew up and touched my window.
Last Monday, I went to the funeral services for my uncle. He passed away on the prior Monday (the 15th) which is exactly the same date his father died, my grandpa. All the events related to this have somehow thrown my emotional balance askew. I have only been able to cry in small, violent spurts, which seem to hurt more than relieve. Seeing my uncle about a week before he passed has left haunting images in my mind. He was so afraid to die, I think. They say in the last day the cancer traveled to his brain and he started to hallucinate.
At one point, he told my other uncle that he was reaching towards paradise and that it was so beautiful. Another time he said he saw a boy carrying a dead dog.
My uncle was fond of "floozies," as my grandma called them. They were always artificially blonde, fond of too much make-up, alcoholics, married or attached to men who mistreated them, and often cheated on him. The last part is what really bothered my grandma. But, I don't think my uncle was a fool. He knew these things, these flaws. He sought something in their unchanging imperfections and vulnerabilities. They needed him. He needed them. It had to do with something in his generosity and patience. Even children loved him, though he never had any. He understood how easy it is to end up stuck in a life that is harsh and uncaring, and he was willing and wanting to help make someone's life better. And although he is dead and gone, I could have easily said this while he was alive. This is no personal eulogy. In fact, I wish I told him more often how much I admired him.
One thing I always secretly admired about him was that he refused to go to Vietnam. He went to jail instead. It upset my family that he did so, especially my grandpa being a veteran of WWII. I am glad that he cherished life too much to throw it away for something meaningless.
At the funeral, I met his last girlfriend. She fit the standard description. I heard that she was once a nurse, and helped him a lot towards the end. She was the most visibly distraught at the funeral. She cried and cried over his casket. I was immediately drawn to her and began to hold her. My mom said she thinks that she was finally realizing what she lost. She realized that no one ever treated, or would treat, her the way that my uncle had. Her loss was even greater than ours, perhaps. I loved her for loving him.
That bird flew by again. I wish he could live in here, if he wanted, unmolested.
I am going to close this early. I want to leave this the way it is.
Word of the Day: d�gringolade- a rapid decline or deterioration (as in strength, position, or condition)