Last weekend I attended a memorial service for a man I did not know. By all rights bestowed upon me at birth, I should have grown up knowing this man. He was, after all, my uncle. I grew up not knowing him because with life being so unpredictable, my four siblings and I were separated when I was still a toddler. The five of us grew up, adopted out to different families, not knowing each other. The older siblings have a few recollections of our biological family, but I have none. Several years ago I got to meet this man, my Uncle Gerald. Upon our introduction, I remember seeing him wipe the tears from his eyes. We talked for just a few short minutes and he told me I was welcome to come visit him and my aunt anytime. I told him I would do that. Time got away, and a few years later, I read in the local paper that his wife, my aunt, had passed away. I had not gone to visit them. I knew where this man lived, and I cannot begin to count the number of times I drove by his street and thought to myself, “I need to go visit Uncle Gerald. I need to get to know him. I will do that soon.” A little over a month ago I was told that he was having some health issues. Again I thought, “I need to go see him.” The first week of July, I learned that Uncle Gerald had passed away. I had not gone to see him. I had not gotten to know him. Out of respect for this man, I attended the memorial service with one of my sisters. As we took our place among the small gathering of people, it came to my mind, “Some of these people are my very own flesh and blood…and we do not even know each other.” A man and wife, who were good friends with Uncle Gerald, stood and spoke about him to those of us who had gathered to pay our respects. They spoke about how he loved to watch the Tigers baseball games, about how he loved his dog, and about how he loved his family. Then they talked about how little family this man had, and how he would get lonely at times. A few other people took turns speaking, and I noticed a common theme in each of their sharing. Uncle Gerald was a good, loving, family-oriented man. The military honors were then executed, beautifully and pretty near perfect, giving me goosebumps with the twenty-one gun salute and bringing tears to my eyes with the playing of the taps. As I stood there reflecting, a lot of “why didn’t you’s” kept going through my mind, like, “Why didn’t you get to know him? Why didn’t you try to make a difference in his life? Why didn’t you save him from some lonely moments in time? Why didn’t you reach out to his grandchildren and offer to help care for him?” The only answer I could dredge up was, “I just did not take the time.” I know I could have taken the time. I just did not make it priority. Before and after the service, I had the opportunity to meet a handful of my biological cousins and second cousins. I do hope that in the near future I have a chance to be better acquainted with some of them. I know that if given the opportunity, I will not put it off until it is once again too late, and I have to learn second-hand about what a good person they were. In closing, I urge each of you reading this, if there is someone in your life that you think could use some help, some of your time, or just a few words on the phone, please do not put it off. Put forth the effort to make it happen. Don’t let life get in the way. Don’t let your busy schedule rule your life. Don’t pencil someone into your thoughts…put it in ink by making it happen. You just never know when you might make a difference in someone’s life, or even in your own, if you just take the time to put priorities in the right order. Rest in peace, Uncle Gerald. I may not have known you, but I will never forget you.
~Ruth McDonald Mair~
7/27/17
~Ruth McDonald Mair~
7/27/17
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