Wag the dog...

Dearest B.,

One of my paternal uncles died last week on Sunday and I attended his memorial service last Saturday with the sis and my brother-in-law. I had mixed feelings about attending. However, in retrospect I’m extremely happy that I chose to attend the service.

I have been telling friends, or anyone who will listen for that matter, that there are few things in my life I can say I regret. However, while listening to my aunt give part of the eulogy I can now say there is something that I truly regret. And this is the fact that I didn’t make an effort to keep in touch with my Uncle W. and get to know him better when my parents divorced. He was a very cool man.

Let me see if I can explain.

As Aunt J. was giving her portion of the eulogy she shared some of her memories of uncle W. with the attendees of the service. As she went down the list of things about her brother that she loved and admired most, it was as if she was reading a list of characteristics about me.

She said as a child she loved to watch him “doodle” on pieces of paper drawing caricatures of fellow members of the high school baseball team. She mentioned that she admired his skill as she didn’t have it. While I don’t practice nearly as often as I might, I have the natural ability to draw as well and loved to draw as a child.

She shared that he had the most amazing sense of humor and loved to make others laugh. That he had a way of relaying a story of something that may have happened to him with impeccable delivery and in a way that always made whoever heard the story laugh with delight. I too have such a sense of humor and love to make others laugh and feel good.

One of the things Aunt J. said she admired the most about her brother was that he was generous to a fault. When he and his second wife moved to Myrtle Beach, he built a guest apartment on the property and it was always there a welcome for anyone who wished to visit. If anyone needed assistance in any way, and if he was able, he never hesitated to lend a hand. I too am generous to a fault. Often giving of myself and my time far more often than might be good for me, however, I could not imagine being any other way.

As Aunt J. continued to deliver her eulogy, and explain how Uncle W. had taken an interest in intarsia it became evermore apparent at the depths of his generosity. As she concluded her story about his interest in the woodworking technique by telling the attendees  that Uncle W. had made pieces for each of his siblings and their children.

It was then I began to sob.

When Aunt J. called the names for the bag that was for the sis and me, I walked up and the got bag for us. When I returned to my seat and opened the bag and retrieved my piece. I was greeted with the face in the photo above. That of a golden retriever—once again I burst into tears.

While Uncle W. had no way of knowing it, I have a bit of connection with golden retrievers. As a friend of mine who shares his name used to have two golden retrievers and has a tile on his kitchen counter with an image that is very similar to the piece of intarsia Uncle W. gave to me.

After she finished distributing the pieces of work to everyone, Aunt J. requested that everyone leave their pieces in the sanctuary so that anyone who wished to view them might do so. As everyone made their way down to the basement to have lunch, I stayed behind to view the pieces that Uncle W. had made.

While I viewed the various pieces that he’d made all sorts of memories came flooding into my consciousness. An image of a clown reminding me of my fear of clowns as a child. Stained glass with praying hands which brought to mind a drawing of the same in the house of his sister. A marlin,  a nearly perfect copy in miniature of one Uncle W. had on the wall of his den when I was child. With which of course I was utterly fascinated.

As I was getting into my truck to leave the memorial service, my brother-in-law asked what I thought the significance of the pieces that Uncle W. gave us might be. I told him our uncle hadn’t seen the sis and me in many years, so ours were most likely just random. I mentioned, however, that mine didn’t seem so random to me. And mentioned that my friend W. had golden retrievers at one time and was always telling me about them. So for me, the gift from Uncle W. was yet another example of the connections made within the collective unconscious.

On the memory card that was printed for Uncle W.’s memorial service there was this statement, “So if you need me, call and I will come. Though you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near. And if you listen with your heart, you’ll hear all of my love around you soft and clear.”

I feel you near WGW.

Once again B. I miss you more than words can express.