In Memoriam

Dear Uncle Kent -

I wish I had been able to see you and discuss my appreciation for you before you passed, but it didn't happen. I intended for things to go differently within the family - I guess we all fall victim to our intentions. So here I am, regardless of my intention, addressing this letter to you, in honor of our relationship, sadly, after your death. It seems ironic that it is commonplace to speak of the wonderful attributes a person carried with them throughout life, only to be noted after their death. Why is that? Why do we withhold the sharing of our love until after death, when the impacts of those truths upon the deceased are of no value to them anymore?

Anyway, I shall continue -

Why did we become so close? Part of it was just the luck of the draw, I suppose. Me being the first born niece - before your own daughters came along. We spent a lot of time together, somewhat pulled by our common interests, but also because, I believe, you enjoyed my non-typical thinking pattern. We enjoyed each other's company because, in ways we never expressed, we were both "out-of-the-box"  thinkers. I always felt accepted and appreciated in your presence. Of course, I didn't have the words to express this feeling when I was younger, but I do now. Somehow, being around you helped me feel appreciated and loved, in a world that seemed bent on disregarding me for being a little bit different.

You were a person I gravitated toward because you made me believe in the value of my own voice. I lost that for a long time, trying  to appease everyone else in my life who thought I should be smaller. I thought they were right, and I didn’t want to make people uncomfortable with my "Why”s.” You never seemed discomforted by my whys. Only one time did you try to stump me and get a break from the whys. That was when you asked me why my socks were blue? My quick and witty response - “Because they match my pants!” And I was quite serious. I was only around four years old, so that seemed like a perfectly reasonable answer. And didn’t deter my questioning in the least, I’m sure.

Inspired by some show on TV - I was young, I don’t have a clue what triggered it - Buffy and Jodi were a big sitcom at the time, or maybe it was somehow after the huge celebrity at the time (Patrick Duffy) from the nighttime soap, Dallas - I walked confidently into the dining room where you and my aunt and my parents were sitting, and proudly declared I wanted to be called “Duffy.” Everyone giggled. I was embarrassed because I didn’t understand why it was so funny, but you could see I was serious, and hurt. After that episode, you were the only person allowed to call me Duffy, and you did. It makes me sad that I will never hear you call me by that silly nickname again. (And no one else ever should!)

We spent a few trips riding in the car, just you and me, in your work as a Dairy Inspector. You would introduce me to the farmers, but my fascination was always taken by the farm animals. That was my happy place. I enjoyed those few times with you. I still have the plastic model horse you bought for me on one of those days. Maybe there was only one day, but in my young memory, it seemed like multiple adventures. Thank you for filling my heart and mind with memories of kindness and love.

Love, Duffy

🌻🌻🌻🌻

This letter is to commemorate my Uncle’s death on August 16th, 2023 - but more than that, I wrote it to honor the man, and the importance of having him in my life.

I've included this video of the song "Calling All Angels" by Train, as I feel like it represents what he meant to me and many others in his life:

(Click on the picture to listen)