Some people touch our lives so profoundly that we are forever changed by having known them. We see things from a different perspective. Our lives are so enriched that we are never the same.
Nothing could be more true for my Uncle George. The few short years I had with him left me a much better person in ways that touch my life to this day. Being an only child, I have no experience with siblings, but I feel like my Uncle George came close to being the big brother I never had. We shared secrets and laughs; he was always my fiercest protector and defender.
Even after all these years, I still remember him singing the George of the Jungle theme song and telling me it was about him. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He loved the TV show The Jeffersons. Since there was a George on the show, he gave me the only nickname I’ve ever had by calling me Wheezie after the other main character on the show.
George loved to read. The bigger the book, the better. He had a habit of watching TV while reading. I always accused him of not knowing what was going on with both. He could give me the exact details of the book and TV show. He also loved to fish and play guitar. Sometimes he and my Dad would play guitar
together.
One winter, when he was house-sitting for my grandparents, it was an especially cold and snowy time. The walkway became frozen over. We decided to make a skating rink on it. We got to sliding so fast we went right on through the gate, and down it went. We dissolved into fits of laughter. My Mom heard and thought we had fallen. We kept on laughing. George never did get mad. He got the tools, put the gate back, and said something like, “Mommy will never notice.”
My Grandpa had a blue Ford Maverick that was having brake problems. George had changed the brakes and needed to test it out to see if it had fixed the problem. I jumped in the car with him. I remember he looked at my Mom and explained that he didn’t know what would happen if the brakes didn’t catch. I stayed in the car. I always fully trusted my Uncle. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t do everything possible to keep me safe. I truly won the uncle lottery and was blessed with George.
One time he decided to go hitchhiking across the country. I was young, but I was worried. Every so often, a postcard would show up, letting us know he was okay. He knew I loved all things from the old south, so he toured some of the plantation homes so he could tell me about them. Love is the everyday things people do that remind us we matter.
My Uncle told me before I got married that if the guy hurt me, he would answer to him. He passed away before he got to know anything about my adult life. I miss having someone who cares enough to worry about what is going on in my life. It wasn’t actually wanting intervention.
The last day he lived still haunts me. I knew he wasn’t acting like himself, but I had no idea why. The happy, jovial George was gone. I remember it like it was yesterday. He stood by my chair and simply cupped my cheek, never saying a word, which was so out of character. I’ve replayed that day a million times in my mind. What if I had done this, said that? I can’t imagine the pain he was feeling to have taken his life. I would have done things so differently, had I known.
If you think someone you love is acting differently or might need help, don’t hesitate to reach out. I miss him now as much as ever. I wish he could have known my kids, but my heart is forever fuller for having known my Uncle George.
