My Uncle Larry

Up all night again. What started out as an innocent comment by my eldest son... A way for him to express his emotions and feelings in all of this he informed me a few times that his brother was "dead too him" not a great word choice when I am unsure what my son is on or even how much. I am mad... but refuse to say anything. My sons entitled to his feelings. No matter how disgusting and ugly it sounds. I get the anger. I am angry too! But death fills my nightmares and wakes me up and keeps me up. I do tell him I get how he feels... that I understand... more then anyone. That his brother has done this to him.... to US ALL... time and time again. Its not a drug addiction. Its mental illness... You know? The one that people hide deep in a closet? The stigma of it all. Yes. Our son "ran away" all his life. I remember a 7 year old Kyle packing a back pack. Upset because he didn't get the expensive video game he begged for or because he was yelled at for not putting away his lego's ... I can't remember the reason now. Nothing horrible. Nothing life changing. Nothing like I went through. But still... the childs answer was always to pack a bag and run. When I asked him one day what it was about... he mindlessly gives some offhand reply of never feeling like he fit in... with his brothers (understandable considering that they are on the spectrum of having Autism.) or with us. I learned a few months ago that he had told people he always felt like he was adopted. And then the woman dared ask me..."And WAS he? Did you adopt him and keep it from him!?" The things this kid would CONSTANTLY tell other people... things that always came back too me. Always questions and accusing tones. Something that hinted at "your the worst mother EVER. In America... In the WORLD." My son had THAT ability. He can lie like noone else. A gifted talent that the worst criminals wish they could posses... My son has it and then some... He looks at you with his soulful eyes and lies. No emotions. No crying. Like a Zombie. He always played Zombie Video games and innocently said "Zombies are real mom... Thats how its going to end. It will be a disease that makes people into Zombies." Like "Spice"? Yup. I remember when I learned he was using the bath salts. Now there's an education.
            I drifted someplace. This is all to suggest that they weren't close as brothers. They were close. They were too close. I forced it. With 2 autistic children.... they shared the same friends... shared the same likes... shared the same room at times. Initially Kyle would be the one to "take friends" a feeling that both of my other sons remember all too well...... "Mom... He always wants to be the center of attention!" And he did.  At school it was on stage... Looking for a show. He had to be liked the most. Talked about. My other 2... both very handsome boys as well would find little girls chasing them and Kyle would set out to "steal" the girl friends. It became such a habit... And happened SO often... (even girls Kyle had no interest in.) that the boys quit bringing girls home. I would ask why? "Kyle's going to steal her. Or try. He won't stop until she likes him." No. They were wrong. There is no way my son was that bad. That selfish. That heartless? He wouldn't be the one insisting that the girls they cared for most would like him the best. Well a few months ago it happened again. His youngest brother brought home his Girlfriend... he had been friends with her for well over a year and had never brought her home. They had only just started dating. She was short and heavy. Not at all what Kyle was looking for. Not his type. I imagine thats how she made the girlfriend cut. Secretly in Brandon's mind "My brother won't like you? Oh you may be the girl for me!". Of course it didn't end well... Brandon crying. They had split up. Kyle had forced himself into the conversation... he sat down with some beers and insisted he was going to "get to know the girl his brother had brought home." Tick Tick Tick... wee hours of the morning... 3 am... getting to know her... When Brandon couldnt hold the conversation like Kyle did... Kyle would "school him." NO BRANDON... Your doing it wrong. Let me Mr. perfect... show you how its done by the people who AREN'T autistic. What Kyle secretly meant all the time... and my son Brandon with his super high IQ knew... was Kyle thought he was better... and smarter.... and cuter.... and... well everything. And even though Kyles IQ is much lower then his brothers... he is smart too... (smart like a fox.) and he had to have known if he "taught" Brandon in front of the girl... She would back off... And somehow become attracted to Kyle more. So before daylight hit. Before I was up and headed to the ocean to take my pretty sunrise shots... Brandon was crying... His heart broken in little pieces... Kyle drunk and smoking like a chimney... telling him to "Man up."  The girl had told him she couldn't continue on in the relationship with her being "attracted" to his brother... and they needed to go back to being friends. All I could say... was "Kyle? REALLY Kyle?" I say that alot. Shocked by things I probably have no business being shocked about anymore. I am guessing Jonathan and Brandon are VERY right.
            So.... my uncles dead. This is where I am supposed to break down and cry... I am supposed to be heart broken and sad... and say "Why GOD!?" and "It's way too soon!" but I have this weird thing. Well weird in the sense that most of America grieves. All the time. Every time I turn on Facebook or the internet... there is some news story of death. People I know... family members... cry about loved ones that died decades ago. I am truly lost and baffled at the experience myself. Now don't confuse me for the emotionless person that my son seems to become and my father and brothers always were...But, I'm not. I'm sad. I get sad for the loss... My loss... Days that I will never have... things left unsaid... But my mother died when I was 4. A long long drawn out illness and I cried and cried and mourned for years. Us children weren't allowed at her funeral. The last image I have of my mother in my head was her waving out the window too me in her hospital gown. I wasn't allowed up... (I think it was hospital policy... but even not... my father wouldn't have seen the need.) She waved and smiled... I am sure with love and tears in her eyes... but I couldnt see... I was 4... and she was on the 3rd floor... a dot. About the size of an Ant... "Can you see her?" yes. I think thats her. After her death we were quickly disposed of. Put into foster homes. (not together... separated.) My mourning continued on privately. Until it got to the point where I was ready to end it... I had been raped... and needed my mother most. I cried and longed for her input... I longed for her hugs and words telling me it would be ok. I had my plan and it was suicide.... My life sucked. No family members and I often spent holidays alone. I lived alone and the plan was to die... equally and quickly... alone. As I lie outside planning my death I watched the clouds and the sky... I spoke too my mother all the time... Never was it a doubt to me that she was in heaven. I didnt know the layout... If it was the "Catholic" version of heaven or one of the many other religions that I had known "Methodist" "Mennonite" "Baptist" or "Protestant"; but I was sure her spirit was with me ALWAYS... and no matter what... So I would survive... And figure it all out. So my religious experience is much different then most. I feel God and Angels and my mom in a very REAL way... I can hear her speak too me... Not actual words... but I know exactly what she is saying. And trust me... I know. I don't believe in "one religion" I believe in ALL religions. God doesn't care if your White or Black... Baptist or Mennonite... The spirit lives on...long after... this.... This cosmic Joke... This nightmare... It was like in the field watching butterflies I discovered my own religion... That this was a test... to see how we learn... too see how we grow... Our Weakest moments have to become strongest... and we are repeating the same cycles until we get it right... I have witnessed it time and again in my own life... Things that have seemed to difficult and random... Repeated over and over... Until my eyes are opened... Things that would never happen repeatedly to ANY person. I have better odds then any lottery. True story... And if I told you... it would blow your mind. But thats a different blog.
            Its always fascinated me the amount of people who try to "convert" me. They want to bring me to Jesus... They want me to sing in their church... When in the past I have discovered I know more about it then they have even witnessed. My church has no walls... Its the world.
           See? I drifted again. So My uncles dead... And I'm not... "sad" like the rest of the world. I know he's not gone. I know he's here. Right here... with me drifting in and out... more like stopping by to see if I am dying... mentally and drifting physically... at that point again where I am lost and give up. I know this because I know how I found out and I know the timing... And I know what happened when my other uncle passed away years ago... I have these dreams... Dreams of death and happiness. What I imagine would terrify most I think of as a message being given too me...And I know they are dead. (But happy.) And then I do the search. And they are. So. Noone could ever tell me spirits aren't real... That there is no "life" after death... They are very real. Mine tell me when they have died. In life there was no connection really. I can't remember the time that they reached out. No phone calls from them... If I happened to look him up... then fine. But  there are periods of time when I listen to my inner voice speaks clearly too me (angels) and I follow my own instructions. Contact him. Reach out. So it wasn't too long ago... after DECADES of not seeing or speaking too him... that I did... maybe a year ago??I assume the nagging questions in my head at the time were "Do you have any photo's of my mom?" all lost too us... my father with his.... ummm...we will go with lifestyle..... had left them all behind... her pearls... her sewing... things she had made... everything that NORMAL families pass down from one generation too another? Gone. My Aunts who have trunks filled with photo's have always refused to help. "Too painful... one day..." REALLY? I am 42. With a 4 year olds picture in my head. I have children of my own... Now grown men... They may want to "know" my family? Even in tattered picture form only. Awwww... sorry you have pain. So I asked my uncle... and told him... "You know... you were always my favorite Uncle. I remember the laughter in the house... I remember how funny you were... I remember you calling me "Cindy Lou" And Thankyou. I know you.... tried. I know you wanted to take us in..." I could hear the smile "YOU DO!?" I do. I remember... And I get that taking 3 children in after my mom passed wasnt anybodys plan. I understand that death bed promises mean nothing. I'm an adult... and sometimes your just waiting for someone to die... so you can start to mourn... and the things said are so they smile...Its  not a REAL promise. He's released from the guilt he had... One that wasn't his to have really... He sounded good... and happy... and I knew this last time I was going up  to Ny... I would look him up. I would give him a hug and we would laugh... he would smile and say what he always says too me... "You look JUST Like her... Act... JUST LIKE HER... I don't know how. You were so young when she died... But your nothing like the rest of them." I know. I do... I am exactly like her. Forgiving and patient... Blindness to ego or danger. I just don't see what others see... Feel what they feel... its a curse and a blessing... But its why when I stand on the ocean... I feel... God.
          So I know how I found out my uncle was dead. I dont know the last time I saw him... Unsure when we last spoke... but like I said... I reached out... not too long ago... and I sensed in September that I SHOULD stop. I should be there... There was no time... Time... Always someone else... Demands... You know what I NEED CINDY? What I want? sure... Cindy to take Photos... lots... for free... So no time. So I was there in September. October he was gone. Yesterday the voice told me to look for Military pictures... They were in the military... I slowly typed in his name... and my fathers... Clicked on Image... and right there in my google search was my Uncle. A picture. I click thinking I might find more... And he's dead. A repeat of what happened too me when my other uncle had passed... First a dream... then a thought... then learning on my own that they were gone.
          I didnt tell my husband right off... Of course I was sad... And I mourn... I mourn for me... not for him... I know what I lost... The chance that I should have made time for myself... followed my instincts... And gone and seen him when I could have... should have... When I finally tell him... He's confused... No... You just spoke with him... not long ago.... I know... And he was fine!? Yes. And then... When!? October. I wanted to see him when we were there... "We could have!... We WOULD have!... Cindy... Why didnt you say so... ?" because its always something else... someone else... a commitment that needs kept. So we do those things. Are you mad? No. Disappointed at myself... Are you sad... No... I know he was here too see me... He suddenly attacks my father... He's a jerk! He's an idiot... (I agree... Anyone who knows or knew my father would be hard-pressed not too. A selfish sick man. Who I forced myself to cut ties with several years ago... I had tried to keep an adult relationship with the man... but his mental illness was too much. Thats also a different blog. A different time... a different story... )

           I am mad... At my son. I am mad he never knows what I am going through...I'm mad that family tragedies are never family tragedies... His brothers don't...connect to things... Jonathan still rocks back and forth at times... Because he's autistic and in his own world. I am mad its always about Kyle.The one son who COULD emotionally care...? Doesn't.  And I'm mad that SOMEHOW this child who was very much sheltered from my father... got his disease... like he drank from his coffee cup and it contaminated his mind. I wonder how he can think himself adopted when he is the same as my father... and very much the same as my 2 brothers... Selfish to the point of destruction... Uncaring and mean... And very very cruel... And I wonder how when I  move away from that graveyard they call Upstate New York... where I have always told my husband... in my soul... I felt... things go to DIE there. I imagine sick Deer laying on the ground... in Upstate Ny... begging for a hunter to come shoot it. We left. And many of the loved ones I know up there still mourn and cry over every day life. There is no sun... Lots of snow...I dont know how my son got.... like this. When he was surrounded by love... And sunshine... And vitamin D... and the ocean is 2 blocks away... He was forced to enjoy nature and the world... even when he didnt want to... So how are we at this point with him?
            I will continue to write here about it all... Jonathan and Brandon have both told me they are tired of how much attention he has demanded... and they want a day where I am not worried about Rehab and wondering if he will live... They are glad the focus can be off him... Finally... (and it breaks my heart for them... He has told them many many times before he will go away forever... and he will never see them again... Not caring if he hurts them... Always threats... And Brandons tears.)
            I am glad my uncle came too me to say Goodbye. I am glad he is up there looking over me... somewhere... and I am sure its not all the time... Just a few moments to make sure I am still struggling with life... and I'm not in some field planning on offing myself.... And then... he's gone.
Goodbye Uncle Larry... Thanks for stopping and checking on me... and say Hi too Mom.