be-loved (adjective): dearly loved; dear to the heart
The world has gotten a little dimmer today.
Just after midnight, we received a call that my Uncle Paul had passed away. I am both thankful and saddened simultaneously because I got to see him before he transitioned. I am elated because he was in a peaceful state (I’m sure the morphine helped, lol). I am saddened because he wasn’t talking, laughing nor smiling. It was painful to see all of the tubes everywhere, meanwhile as the breathing machine did its job. I had never seen anyone that way before. It just wasn’t normal. That was not cool.
Have you ever met someone that you immediately smile around, every time you’re around them? I’ve known this person too. He was my uncle. This guy’s smile would light up the darkest room. And that laugh of his seemed to have caused the sun to shine just a tad brighter. It was infectious. He would laugh so hard, until he would cry. I found myself laughing just because he was. He represented pure joy in my life.
The church gave him a job working in the cafeteria making tea (And yes, it was sweet tea. I’m from the south). [I am thankful for that church giving people like my uncle a chance to work and have some sense of fulfillment.] My siblings and I would always tease him and ask, “How’s making the tea going, Uncle Paul?” He would smile and eventually start laughing. I’m smiling just thinking about that. Haha. That dude was funny.
It has become very interesting how life unfolds. I’m sure that my father never imagined that he would say goodbye to his baby brother forever, let alone bury him. As we reflected upon the enormity of the events (at the hospital), my father whimpered, “This one is harder than Mamma and Daddy (his parents).” This was a colossal statement because Grandaddy and my father were best friends. I couldn’t begin to fathom losing any of those who are closest to me, let alone my youngest brother. This is the too soon episode of deja vu for our family. My mother just buried her baby brother 2 months ago. I’m beginning to understand the expression “good grief”.
He was my buddy, and I was his. One of the last times I saw him coherent, he gave me a huge hug and exclaimed, “Booboo! That’s my boy….my boy!” I will definitely miss this dude. God has used my uncle to wire my heart, particularly towards those with special needs.
It’s been an amazing journey, Uncle Paul. I will always remember all that encompassed your being; our conversations, your laugh, but most of all that smile.
Rest peacefully, my beloved Paul.
Love & Peace (and sweet tea),