i awoke dreaming tomorrow
just to die again today

on the way to visit with my dad today, my brother driving, i couldn't help but glance nosily into everyone else's car.  cruising down the highway, i was just hit with a sudden curiosity about each vehicle and each of it's occupants.

after hastily studying these people, i began to ask myself questions about them...

the cute old couple: were they proud grandparents? how many years had they been married? did they know the pain and grief of losing a child?  was their love still warm, or had it grown cold over the years?

the two middle-aged women: was this a midlife roadtrip? did they share their deepest secrets with one another?  had they seen each other cry?  were they sisters?  childhood friends?  room mates?  lovers, even?

the young man riding solo: what was he thinking at that moment?  was heading home for the holidays?  did he have a family to go to?  was he running to something, or maybe from someone?  had he ever loved someone?

and i found myself thinking that today...

today i want to know these answers.
today i want to know each of their personal stories.

i want to laugh with them, hold them while they cry, make a toast to their life, drink a beer and tell jokes, listen quietly to their memories, hold their hand, or just sit companionably.

i want to place each of them in my tiny, incapable hands
and protect them.

today i just felt a renewed love for the human race.

and damn, it's a nice feeling.

My most prominent memories from the hospital this summer are the sounds.  The smell of a hospital still turns my stomach, but it's the machines I remember.  The constant humming and whirring and, of course, the beeping.

Each different beep sending a separate chill down my spine, causing my heart to pound profusely and I'd simultaneously glance at my uncle's chest, searching for movement.  Always a false alarm.  I'd watch his chest rise slowly as he'd take shallow breath and shudder as he'd exhale.  Horror films have got nothing on a hospital.

My fingers were raw, extremely pink, and even scabbed in some places.  I'd practically gnawed them to the bone those past few nights spent there.  Days too, when I wasn't working, and even sometimes when I was supposed to.  I wasn't alone, in fact, there was practically always a crowd of 8 or more.  My uncle Dale was quite adored.

Ha, though the best sound I remember was the laughter.  In fact, my family probably holds some record for being the only people nearly escorted out for our good time.  Security was called on us numerous times because our guffaws could be heard through out the halls of the hospital.

I love this.  It speaks volumes of my uncle.  We all just took turns telling all the hilarious stories we'd gathered or experienced over the years.  This man had charisma and charm seeping from his very pores.  He was (at one time, or another) : a thief, a comedian, the sweetest uncle, a prisoner, a good listener, a drunk, a poker player, a pen pal, a coffee-drinking buddy.  He was just always giving people something to smile or laugh about.  He was a blazing fire amongst feeble flames.

And watching that fire slowly being extinguished was torturous to endure.  But when he'd taken his last breath I remember thinking about something.

I remember thinking about him being a homosexual.

And I tell you this because my uncle was so lucky.  Beyond blessed when it came to our family.

You know why..

Because every one of us knew.  And EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US accepted him.  His parents, who are a part of an older, conservative generation.  His brothers, who happen to be severely testosterone driven.  Even his niece, who was devoted to her faith.

To me, this is the most beautiful representation of unconditional love.  My uncle Dale passed away on August 15, 2008.  And though the world may have scorned him, his family always had his back.  My family is dysfunctional, vulgar, crazy, and downright ridiculous at times.

But when it comes to loving our own...we know how it's done.

See...proof that not all people are idiots...