My Uncle is Dying and I Promise You: That Thing You Think Matters, Does Not

My uncle could die any minute now.

I was with him two days ago, sitting with him, watching Friends with him (our favourite show) and holding his hand: for the last time in my life.

He couldn’t speak. He could barely open his eyes. His whole body had shrunk several sizes smaller than how he normally was. He was lying there in a hospital grade bed stuck in the centre of the living room with my dad (his brother), my cousin and his girlfriend surrounding him, taking care of him, keeping him alive.

Dad messaged me that morning saying “he’s deteriorating fast. This might be your last chance.”

I’m writing a kids' book, you see, and I’d written a little part within it about my uncle. I wanted so desperately to read it to him whilst I still could, and I still could. So I did.

I went to see my uncle for the last ever time.

As I type this, it could happen — he could die

The doctor rang whilst I was there. Had a video consultation with my uncle’s girlfriend and my dad, swapping the camera around so he could get a digital glance at him lying there. They took the doctor into the next room, then. Ten minutes later, dad came out and drove me home — after I’d said my last goodbye — and told me that the doctor reckons he had only days left. If not hours.

That was two days ago now. My dad said it was touch and go today. A person I l love so deeply could literally stop existing any moment now.

It’s weird how a heart can break over and over, each fragment cracking into more fragments, right down to the atomic level. Which is exactly how deeply you love those you love, I guess. It makes sense. And I hate it.

I don’t really know why I’m writing this. I just know that it’s a brief window, a second of stillness within the floods of tears I’ve been crying — so I write.

Except, actually, I know exactly why I’m writing this

Because my uncle is sick and tired and I am sick and tired of people wasting time in this lifetime of theirs.

I am sick of people not saying how they feel. I am tired of people not pursuing what they love. I am sick and tired and terrified by the fact that we’re caught up in making money, in gaining followers, in doing anything other than loving with our whole damn human hearts.

My uncle’s time is running out — and so is all of ours. We don’t know when exactly it will hit zero, but every second that passes it’s getting closer. Even now. And now. Still now.

You have less time on this Earth at this sentence here, than you did when you started reading.

Life, time, everything: it’s fleeting. STOP WORRYING ABOUT THAT BLACKHEAD ON YOUR NOSE. STOP STRESSING ABOUT THE WIDTH OF YOUR BELLY. STOP LETTING YOUR DAY JOB DICTATE YOUR DAY TO DAY EXISTENCE. STOP THINKING YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. STOP BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO (except by me, right now, because this is important).

Life is about living. It’s about loving: your people and places and passions. Forget the rest.

Forget everything else

Forget the big things. Forget the promotion. Forget making 10k. Forget that two-week summer holiday amidst 50 other weeks where you’re trapped at work. Forget saving for Christmas. Forget scrubbing the slime off the sink. Forget wondering why Jason ghosted you. Forget the scales. Forget the news. Forget tomorrow.

Focus on the little things. Sit by a pond. Sketch the shape of the clouds with your eyes. Listen to a Louis Theroux podcast. Spend £25 on something you really really want. Send doughnuts to your grandparents. Write a love note on the back of a KFC receipt. Text everybody in your contacts and tell them you love them. Travel somewhere you’ve never heard of (overseas or just a bus ride over). Discover a new type of tree. Scatter wildflower seeds in a place that means a lot to you. Cut an onion up in erratic shapes. Start a wishlist on Ikea. Buy a tiny clock to wear on your finger to remind yourself how quick the seconds slip by. Think about the things you’re grateful for — and tell them that you’re grateful. Focus on today. Focus on now. Focus on this moment.

Because in this moment right now, my uncle is still alive.

He might not have tomorrow, but he has now and we have him and we have a whole lifetime's worth of moments together, immortalised right here inside of us.

Nothing else matters than right here, with the ones you love, whilst you’re alive

Nothing else. Absolutely nothing.

Not that “thing” you were worried about: the crack on your screen, the coat that you’ve misplaced, the emails you’ve yet to reply to.

YOU ARE ALIVE.

YOU ARE RIGHT HERE.

YOU HAVE THINGS YOU LOVE, PEOPLE YOU LOVE, PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU — why are you doing anything but embracing that?

And yeah, I know, I know, life isn’t always that easy. But it is always that short. Prioritise. Make time. Forget wasting your life — start hasting it, by getting straight onto the things you love, and stat.

The only thing that matters in this world is love. End of story. Start of story. The whole damn story.

In the minute that follows this one, go do something you love. Tell somebody you love them. And for the love of all that there is to love: love the fact that you’re alive and living.

If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for my uncle. I think he’d love that.