Humbled and amazed…

First of all, I just want to say thank you SO MUCH for your kind words, prayers, and support over the past week. I’m honestly humbled and amazed at the outpouring of support I’ve received from the blog community in the past week. I wasn’t able to respond to emails or post while I was home, but I do have it set up so that my emails come to my cell phone. Every time I saw an email or comment from one of you, it made me smile.

Meet my Uncle Mark. He’s on the right, standing beside his father (my grandfather) and his son. As most of you know, he passed away on Friday, April 10th, 2009.

My parents had come to Charleston on Thursday evening to stay for the weekend. Around 11:30, we were all getting ready for bed when the phone rang. It was my cousin, and we quickly learned Uncle Mark had a heart attack. My parents immediately packed up and headed back home and we played a giant version of telephone throughout the night, trying to stay informed and keep abreast of what was happening.

My aunt reported that my uncle had went to the bed for the night. She went in to check on him and said that something didn’t seem right. When she got closer to him, she realized he wasn’t breathing. She called the paramedics, who did CPR for over 45 minutes before transporting him to the hospital. He was pronounced dead once he arrived there.

We did have an autopsy so we could understand what had happened. My uncle did indeed have a heart attack and had a 90% blockage in one artery. It’s ironic that this happened when it did – he had recently quit smoking, had lost weight, and had been to the doctor 2 weeks before and received a good report.

I guess I just felt very distant and detached from the time I heard the news until the time Jason and I made our way home from the funeral. I’m not sure why – I guess maybe that is my way of coping? I’ve lost a lot of loved ones, unfortunately, and when it happens I immediately adopt this “I’ve got to be the strong one!” attitude and to me, that means not crying. I’ve really been struggling since we’ve come home.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt. For three years, when we lived in WA, I didn’t have the option of coming home and visiting family whenever I wanted to. Now I’m back in SC and I only live 3 hours away from the rest of the family. I don’t take the opportunity to visit as much as I should. I wish I had gone home more. I wish I had known my uncle better. I wish I had seen him more.

My Uncle Mark was always a mystery to me. He came from a big family of bossy and talkative women. He was always the one in the corner, sitting with a smirk on his face while he took everything in. I told my mom this weekend that I always got the feeling at family gatherings that he was just sitting and thinking “How in the WORLD am I related to all these loud, bossy women?”

Uncle Mark was a talented woodworker and he made beautiful birdhouses. He was a workaholic and was dedicated to his job. He was proud to be from “the Valley” and be a Southerner. He loved his family and worried about us constantly. He was always thinking about other people.

I can remember once, when my parents were out of town, my Uncle Mark calling me to tell him something about my grandparents. I don’t even remember now what it was, but whatever it was made me cry, and I remember my uncle being so flustered and upset that I was crying. He couldn’t handle crying women. I don’t think he wanted anyone to know he was crier, too.

My aunt spoke at the funeral, and I keep remembering one thing she said. She said “We aren’t a family that has to talk every single day to know we love each other.” I hope that’s true. The last time I saw my uncle was at Christmas lunch, and I can’t remember if I told him I loved him. I hope I did. I hope he knew.

I’ve experienced enough death and loss to know that everything happens for a reason. That reason isn’t always known to us, but I have faith that it exists. That there is a purpose to death and loss. I know I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past couple of days. I hope that someone else has, as well. Maybe someone will decide to change their life, get healthy, and will lessen their own chances of heart disease. Maybe someone will change their bad habits or pick another path for their life. Maybe someone will draw closer to their family members. I don’t know, and I’ll probably never know – but I have hope.

So the moral to this story? Hug your loved ones close. Give your kids a kiss before bed tonight. Pick up the phone and call your mother or your grandparents and tell them you love them. You just never know when you might not get that chance again.