Road Trip Day 2: Uncle Charlie

I woke up this morning knowing it was going to be a long day. Jittery, high strung energy from completing the 10 hr. cross country drive late the night before had left me unable to fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Obeying the alarm clock, I piled out of bed, went into the kitchen where my brother had brewed a fresh pot of coffee and proceeded to do my best to wake up before the 10:00 rehearsal...prior to the memorial service in the early afternoon.

I come from an artsy family. My mother was a professional dancer, studying under Martha Graham and both my mother and late father came from families where talent in the arts were appreciated and fostered. With 2 siblings, one studied piano and voice, another violin and myself; the cello and other strings. The 3 of us have long been known to provide family gatherings with music and the occaision of my Uncle Charlie's memorial was no exception: we were asked weeks beforehand.

There were a few selections my sis arranged for the service but it was the first one we rehearsed which triggered a burst of tears when I began to play the opening strains of "Danny Boy".

"Sorry guys, I need a moment".

It was a favorite song of my uncle's and I also happened to play it at another farewell just 3 weeks earlier when the family had gathered at my place just days before my son's deployment to Iraq. After I played it at David's farewell, accompanied by my sister, she informed me that my grandmother (Charlie's mother) sang it in her lovely contralto voice for both my father and his 2 brothers before they went off to war.

God, what a loaded song.

The Ashokan Farewell was the last piece we rehearsed complimented by other selections which we were all generously complimented on after the beautiful and authentic memorial service.

My uncle was someone who personified "I Did it My Way" his entire life. Stubbornly independent, warm, brilliant, unruly, generous to a fault combined with a sting everyone respected, characterized his walk. He came from a family of voracous storytellers and unmatched wit. My memories of him began at an early age, with family vacations in beautiful Pine Valley, 32 miles north. He was there with my dad when I caught my first fish, laughed uproariously when I sported a supprised expression upon crossing cattle guards at high speed for the first time and the summer I was 12 years old said very genuinely, "You're turning into a beautiful woman, Lynds".

At his passing, his body was completely worn out but his mind was perfectly intact. I remember the visit David and I had paid just 2 weeks before. He was very weak, but still had it in him to compliment both of us in the fashion he had done his entire life. "Lyndsy, you look more beautiful than ever", was the last compliment he paid to me. He had a way of engaging a person in the first 10 seconds he was in their presence that showed his charisma and ability to put an entire room at ease.

His graveside service was complete with military honors-- the same that was accorded my father 13 years ago this very month. The flag was held over his ashes, then folded and presented to his daughter and son. In the 103 degree heat the 21 gun salute shattered what remained of my composure the way it did the day we buried my father. Tears fell for missing my dad...and more immediately, my uncle. All of it combined to simultaneously strike the sensitive, primal chords of a mother's heart-- for a son had just left for war.

What an effing loaded day.

The family gathering at Uncle Charlie's a couple of hours later was restorative for all-- we sent him out in grand style, just the way he would have wanted. Music, good food and drink, stories and hearty laughs abounded. The priceless gift of a supportive family once again connected, filled us all. My uncle was there...he was DEFINITELY there to see us through this day as well.

The day ended with my gratitude for the comittment of my family: who don't necessarily agree with each other all the time, but are always there to support each other through thick and thin, through all kinds of life changing events. Take the last year, for example. There with my daughter in April when my granddaughter, Aurora was born. Family showed up for my son David's graduation in May and again to celebrate my mother's 90th birthday in June. The holidays with the fam strengthened me at a difficult time personally. They came to see David off to Iraq and today for Uncle Charlie. In August my brother will turn 50 and we'll most likely descend on him to celebrate. Now, this may not the way every family decides to live with each other, but it sure works for me.

Especially today.