9 years ago.

From the day I was born, my Uncle P. was there. There is a picture of him watching my sister ride a tricycle the day that I was born.  Uncle P and Aunt M were like a second set of parents to us (Uncle P = my dad's brother). They had no children of their own, so my sister and my cousins and I were like their kids. My family lived only 2 towns away from them, so we got to see them the most. We went on our summer vacations together: several summers in Ocean City, MD; I rode between my uncle's feet on his scooter all through Disney World the first and second times we went. They would take us on other summer vacations to Wildwood when my parents had to work. The vacations and memories go on and on.


Uncle P had two primary interests that he wanted to share with us: sports and music. I tried to do the sports thing, but that was by far my sister's strong suit. So, I took on music full force. Uncle P recommended I start playing the viola. He set me up with my first private viola teacher. He gave me my clarinet. He was thrilled when I took up the bassoon and the piano. He came to my sister's softball games (he was a softball coach too), and he came to as many concerts of mine as possible (he was a middle school music teacher too). I went to Take Your Daughter To Work Day (when it was just about daughters, not all kids) with him for several years. 

circa 1994? (my parents put this photo in my senior yearbook, with a note about him)

 We would play music together at my great aunt's nursing home. They had a piano there, and Uncle P would play, and I would bring my viola, and there we are in the above picture. The old people loved it.


My sister and I had a bedroom at their house. We kept toothbrushes and pajamas there. Our ties were so close.

And then, nine years ago today my uncle passed away suddenly. He had a cold that he couldn't shake. He spent a few days in the hospital, and then died of multi-organ failure. We're not quite sure of how all the events came together, but I remember those days that followed as though they just happened.


He wasn't there to see me dressed up for prom, or to see me play at Lincoln Center, or see me graduate high school, or graduate with my bachelor's and master's degrees. He won't be there to call when I get engaged or when I walk down the aisle or to meet my future children.


But I know that he's always here somehow, watching us and taking care of us. I found out that I got in the school of my dreams on his birthday, the first one after he passed away. For my BA/MA graduation, Aunt M gave me some cash--cash that Uncle P had saved from his band gigs (mind you, he passed away 6 years prior to that).  I'm still holding on to some of those bills, and I can't bear to spend them.


He's just one of those people that I'll never forget, never stop wishing he would just show up somewhere, and that I'll never stop missing and thinking about every day.

I miss you, Uncle P.