My uncle is dead. This is fact.  It’s not clear exactly when or how.

He joined the Army during Vietnam and from what I understand (family history is rarely clear and most details are released about a person post mortem) he was always a loner after that.  Surprised?  If you are reading this, I’m sure you’re not. The story of a man who sees things and has to come back to “normal” society is rarely conventional and often one that includes some mystery. 

When I was younger, I remember seeing him only on holidays when we would travel to my grandparent’s house.  He would always arrive late and never seemed to say much.  Not long after the meal at thanksgiving or opening presents on Christmas he’d disappear.  He maintained a room at my grandparent’s place and it was always of interest.  He had shelves of things that he had collected from all over the world: a hand carved wooden elephant from Thailand, a bank with a cannon that shot the coins into it, old model cars that once contained whiskey, model trains, zippo lighters, knives,  a closet full of guns, and a host of other things I can’t quite remember right now.

He was tall, a bit of a gut always protruded from his flannel or work shirt.  He often smelled of grease or smoke- he also had a garage on his parent’s property, one separate from his father’s.  Male pattern baldness, square framed glasses, a Sam Elliot style mustache, and rough hands were some of the first things you would notice about him. 

He gave the same gifts to us every year at Christmas- a box of chocolates and some cologne. As a child you’re not observant enough or experienced in life to read complex family dynamics or understand why someone would feel or act the way they do.  He always seemed an interesting character, not unlike my next-door neighbor growing up.  Mr. Freeman was a WWII Army Air Corps veteran and I could never understand why he was always so mad… that is, until I came home from war and was mad about everything.  I always wished I had gotten a chance to sit down and really talk to him after that but life moved on and for some, it had already ended.

My Uncle, however, was Vietnam era and very much still around when I got back- but no one ever saw him. He was a hermit before but became even more reclusive when his father (my grandfather) died.  I never saw him after my grandfather’s funeral- so sadly, I never got to know him.  I can’t recall a conversation we had that was more than a few sentences. I never went anywhere or did anything with him.  It wasn’t a shock when my mother called me awhile back and told me he had died.  I wasn’t even surprised when she told me that he had been dead for over a month before anyone found him. 

                Learning about someone as you clean out their house is a puzzle. Pieces gathered from here or there give a glimpse, a small portion of what they were. We are more than a sum of acquired things or experiences but all that is left behind are the memories and worldly possessions. 

He smoked Winston cigarettes, ate Hungry Man TV dinners, assumedly while he watched one of the myriad of war or western movies he had stacked in his living room.  He preferred side by side shotguns to an over/under, was a machinist, woodworker, and mechanic.  According to a certificate I found, he was certified to work on nuclear electronics. 

With all these abilities… he had a well but never running water in the house.  There were only 6 breakers in his electrical panel and extension cords run all over the place.  The machining equipment was in the garage but never powered or set up.  I know what magazines he subscribed to and yet I don’t really know him.  I know his things, the evidence of his life. As I helped my parents clean out his place, I began to reflect on my own life. 

What would people say of me by the things I leave behind?  If I died, would I have made an impact in someone’s life?  Would anyone notice I was missing?

                Don’t isolate, don’t fake fine.  Let people help you.  Don’t sit home alone.  Sure, you might want to be hard- you don’t need help or other people.  You’ve made it through so many other things, why would you need help now?  *It’s easy to be hard, it’s hard to be smart.*  Make the smart choice and reach out today.  People CAN and DO understand what you’re going through but you won’t get help sitting alone watching movies and eating TV dinners. 

Over.

Matthew 6:19–21 (NLT): Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.

Drew Out.