Uncle Walter

“Grandpa, Grandpa, Uncle Walter is here.”

I shook Grandpa’s hand, but he couldn’t hear me. He lay on the bed, still and white… as he had for several days. “Uncle Walter’s here Grandpa.” I knew everything would be all right now. Uncle Walter had come.

I was only 5 when I first met Uncle Walter. I remember him stepping out from the pumpkin patch carrying the biggest 'trombone' I'd ever seen. My Great Uncle Walter was a giant, as tall as the trees with muscles that rippled through his shirtsleeves.

“Good to see you Jim. How are ye me boy?” Uncle Walter boomed from down the back of the yard. “And who’s this strapping lad you’ve got with you then?” he continued as he walked towards us.

“This is my daughter’s boy Walt,” Grandpa replied in his usual quiet voice, a loving smile on his face for the older brother he hadn’t seen for many years. Uncle Walter’s whole face smiled; his eyes sparkled like there was a light shining from the inside. His hair was black and shiny, but he had funny tufts of gray hair growing out of his ears, reminding me of a teddy bear.

“What’s that Jimmy?” Uncle Walter roared. “My hearin’s been goin’ these last few years.” He smiled, as if to say he wasn’t much bothered by it. “Not much to complain about at 91 though, all said and done, eh?” My Grandpa was a bit deaf himself, but even he had no trouble hearing Uncle Walter, who shouted so loud that the neighbors three blocks down could hear every word. To make Uncle Walter hear him though, Grandpa had to shout just as loud. I wondered if the neighbors wore earplugs whenever my uncle had one of his conversations. I’m sure I heard the kitchen windows rattle with each word!

Bending to leave the trombone by the doorstep, he reached out and ruffled my hair. “Come on inside lad” he said, opening the back door and beckoning us both to enter. Inside, it was cool and dark; an old country kitchen. Smells of baking came from the wood oven, wafting through the room in a friendly welcome.

"Oh Jim" I heard from the inner doorway. I turned to see Aunt Kath move silently into the kitchen, her footsteps muffled by sheepskin slippers. "It's so nice to see you," she continued, walking straight to the stove and placed the kettle on to boil. "I’ll have a pot of tea ready in just a moment."

She was a kindly and gentle looking lady, half the height of Uncle Walter, or so it seemed. She had white hair, held in tight curls beneath a hair net, sparkling blue eyes that peered out from a wrinkled face, and wore a simple dress with tiny flower patterns all over it, and a big white apron that made her look even smaller. "And this must be Ruthy's boy " she crooned, coming over and touching my cheek, gentle, feather light. Not pinching it like Aunty Mavis always does. "You've come just in time " she seemed to sing, "the scones are about ready, and we've some freshly made jam as well." Smiling directly at me, she asked, "would you like that?"

"No need to be shy boy!" Uncle Walter boomed. "You're mighty welcome here!” Grinning and pointing to the mantelpiece, he continued “your Aunt Kathy's scones are the best in the state - won first prize at the show more years than you can count.”

The mantelpiece and the wall behind it, were covered in prize certificates and pictures of Aunt Kath with her cakes and scones. There were also lots of pictures of Uncle Walter with his pumpkins and giant cauliflower.

"Now Walt" Aunt Kath replied in a soft voice, "don't go on so. The boy has only just met us for the first time, it's only natural he'd be shy."

Uncle Walter didn't answer, but nodded and turned to Grandpa. "Tell me then Jim, what's been happenin' with you?" Reaching into his coat pocket, he removed a pipe which he began stuffing with tobacco, a look of concentration on his face. "Tell me what me little brother's been up to."

I watched in fascination as he put a match to the pipe, sucking on it until the tobacco glowed red, at the same time, blowing out thick clouds of sweat smelling smoke. It made patterns in the air above the kitchen table, swirling and moving as it explored the dark ceiling above.

While they shouted to each other, Aunty Kath served up fresh scones topped with fresh apricot jam and a dollop of homemade cream. My favorite! Smiling at me, and placing the scones within easy reach of my shorter arms; she joined in the conversation. I wondered how she did it; for not once did she raise her voice and yet both Grandpa and Uncle Walter seemed to hear her perfectly well.

A week after I turned six, Grandpa and Grandma were getting all dressed up and I asked them, “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to pay our respects to your Aunt Kath dear” Grandma told me softly, a wobbly sound to her voice. “Can I come too?” I asked, eager to see that lovely lady who had treated me with such respect and tenderness. A look passed between my grandparents, and, kneeling down, my Grandpa explained. “Your Aunt Kath has passed on.” He said. “She died last night.”

After that, Grandpa started to visit Uncle Walter every month. He took me along too, until I started school. Then one night, the night before my seventh birthday, Grandpa mentioned he was going to see Uncle Walter. I knew a visit would keep me out past my bedtime, but I asked, “can I come too?”

Grandpa looked uncomfortable, like his coat wouldn't sit right, and he took a while before he answered me. He knelt down to speak to me face to face. "Your uncle Walter is not well" he said, and his voice sounded shakey and sad. I felt sick in my stomach, like I did the time I saw my dog get run over by a car. "What's wrong with him?" I asked, afraid I might not want to know.

"He's got cancer of the lungs, from smoking all these years" he replied quietly. "He's in the hospital so that the doctors can look after him."

"Can I come and visit him?" I repeated, now, more than ever wanting to visit. I wanted to wish my Uncle well. I would take him some flowers. He would like that.

Clutching a bunch of white and yellow chrysanthemums, I stood in the doorway. All of a sudden I didn't want to go any further. A terrible smell crept past the hospital antiseptics, and it made me afraid. Uncle Walter lay on the bed across the room; his skin hanging from the bones of his face like he'd been eaten away from the inside. His hair was all white now and hanging limp like dry grass in the summer. I could see blood pumping along his arm through transparent skin.

Grandpa walked over to the bed and tenderly picked up Uncle Walter’s hand. As I stood by the door, I could hear music and someone softly singing ‘Take me home again Kathleen.” Following the sound, I looked across to the corner of the room where there was a single chair. Sitting in the chair, tall and strong, just like when I first met him, was Uncle Walter. He saw me watching him and beckoned me over. A warm feeling came over me and I wasn't afraid any more. I walked past Grandpa and the old man in the bed and gave the flowers to the Uncle Walter I knew.

The flowers fell to the chair and lay there as he smiled and said to me "It's OK lad. My time has come. I've been around 93 years and it's been a good life". Although I could see him speaking, the words seemed to come from "inside" my head. He talked to me about the early days with his brother, and of settling down with his wife Kathleen, and he told me about the time he met my father at my parents wedding. He seemed so peaceful and calm; his ‘voice’ gentle and quiet. Reaching out with his big hand, he touched me on the head, and was gone. I felt really peaceful, a bit like I feel when Grandma tucks me into bed at night and gives me a goodnight kiss. I turned to Grandpa. “Uncle Walter says he loves you Grandpa”.

That was 3 years ago now.

The door opened. “Visiting time is nearly over dear,” said a nurse from the doorway. I held Grandpa’s hand even tighter. I could hear the music again. “It’s time to go Grandpa, Uncle Walter is here.” My tears splashed on the bed covers. “I love you Grandpa.”

I felt him return my handgrip and then let go. And I was surrounded by love. “Goodbye Grandpa, I love you.”