Yesterday, I woke up to the news. I was flat, it didn't click. "Your Uncle Robert passed away this morning from a heart attack..." Ok, shit, well, shit.
I didn't know what to do with it. Uncle Robert is always there for me to call when Lola won't start. He's always at the house when I come to San Antonio. He's the guy to call when you need a last minute limo for a bachelor party. He taught me how to ski. He is my youngest uncle. We look so much alike at times it's scary. I can't complain he was a good looking man. He was always smiling, always good for a laugh.
So what do you do with that news? What can you do. You do the only sane thing, walk into the kitchen, start grinding coffee, then curl up on the couch and cry, in huge racking fits. Because, well, shit what else can you do? I loved that man. I always assumed I would see him again, I used to joke about being next in line for his bus if he ever died, it's not funny any more. I'd much rather have him here. I don't cry much, Natalie had never actually seen me cry until yesterday, then it happened twice. The second time was when my sweet mom called me and neither one of us could hold it together, I almost wrecked the car. Good thing Natalie is asleep now, or she would have seen me crying again. If you see someone cry three times, then it is an expected response. Lucky for me she's asleep.
Robert loved cars. We both love cars. More specifically we love Volkswagens. Sure he had a Porsche he was redoing, the occasional Beamer in the yard, I think there was an old MG and he always asked me if that little hunk of metal under the tarp on 7th was an old Mini (editors note I think it was an early Honda) but his pride and joy was "my bus." I have Lola, he had his bus. We love our old, finicky, beautiful cars. We loved talking about them, dreaming about next steps, showing them to people, even occasionally working on them. I always new I could call Uncle Robert, with no pre-amble, without talking for months, and get straight to car talk "Mikey what's happening?" "Oh no much, so Lola won't turn left when it's raining..." and off we'd go, long distance shop talk. I can't tell you how many times that happened.I'm going to miss him.
Uncle Robert was a pivotal figure in my life. He loved his family so much, and we are all reeling with the loss. I'm going to miss him.
I didn't know what to do with it. Uncle Robert is always there for me to call when Lola won't start. He's always at the house when I come to San Antonio. He's the guy to call when you need a last minute limo for a bachelor party. He taught me how to ski. He is my youngest uncle. We look so much alike at times it's scary. I can't complain he was a good looking man. He was always smiling, always good for a laugh.
So what do you do with that news? What can you do. You do the only sane thing, walk into the kitchen, start grinding coffee, then curl up on the couch and cry, in huge racking fits. Because, well, shit what else can you do? I loved that man. I always assumed I would see him again, I used to joke about being next in line for his bus if he ever died, it's not funny any more. I'd much rather have him here. I don't cry much, Natalie had never actually seen me cry until yesterday, then it happened twice. The second time was when my sweet mom called me and neither one of us could hold it together, I almost wrecked the car. Good thing Natalie is asleep now, or she would have seen me crying again. If you see someone cry three times, then it is an expected response. Lucky for me she's asleep.
Robert loved cars. We both love cars. More specifically we love Volkswagens. Sure he had a Porsche he was redoing, the occasional Beamer in the yard, I think there was an old MG and he always asked me if that little hunk of metal under the tarp on 7th was an old Mini (editors note I think it was an early Honda) but his pride and joy was "my bus." I have Lola, he had his bus. We love our old, finicky, beautiful cars. We loved talking about them, dreaming about next steps, showing them to people, even occasionally working on them. I always new I could call Uncle Robert, with no pre-amble, without talking for months, and get straight to car talk "Mikey what's happening?" "Oh no much, so Lola won't turn left when it's raining..." and off we'd go, long distance shop talk. I can't tell you how many times that happened.I'm going to miss him.
Uncle Robert was a pivotal figure in my life. He loved his family so much, and we are all reeling with the loss. I'm going to miss him.
