As of tomorrow we will officially be two weeks into this new year.
As of yesterday I received the second phone call of the year, from my mother informing me of someone in my life passing away.
The first was a family friend, Don. He was in a car accident after leaving his churches's New Year's Eve party not to long after midnight. He died having just left the company of his friends, with his wife beside him, and comforted knowing his daughter was safe at home.
The second was my uncle, Karl. He died from complications with his chromes disease and decades long battle with alcoholism. He died alone, in his home, on Monday. His body wasn't found until my father managed to get into his home, after several un-returned phone calls, and found him.
I know that plenty of my friends will say that I am not my uncle. That I have so many friends and family members around me that love and care about me.
But don't you think there was a time when Karl had friends too? Friends who were there for him, years ago, when he went through rehab. But at the time of his death he had one friend. Only one, some girl named Holly that now we can't find a number for and have no way of telling her that he is gone. Karl had four siblings and tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins. But the only family he had to spend time with when he got sick was my dad. My dad who brought him food every week and cleaned up his messes.
There was a time, when I was younger, that I was infatuated with Karl. I would have thought that he had hung the moon. However, in the months leading up to now, I've been referring to him as my "Crazy Uncle Karl".
Last week I finished reading a book called Will Grayson, Will Grayson co-authored by John Green. In it, Green wrote;
"I just think if you don't say the honest thing, sometimes the honest thing never becomes true..."
Throughout this year, if there was ever one post that I were to write that would just be for me. Just one post where I could say the thing that everyone thinks, but no one ever vocalizes. The thoughts we aren't supposed to worry about because it is embarrassing.
If I write one post where I finally say that honest thing, then let me simply say this...
This year, this journey, I need it to work.
I have to tear down my walls. I have to quit hiding, because...
I don't want to die alone.
I don't want to die not knowing what it feels like to have someone choose me.
I don't want to die without knowing what it will take from me, to choose that person as well.
