Brave Enough To Be Bliss

And when I say showed up it’s not a new thing. When I was a messy 16 – 17-year-old girl Uncle Tom came to me and told me that my dad was making some life changes and maybe I could give him a chance. Uncle Tom was willing to step into the fray to try to help put together a broken family. It was a big deal to him to help. He went to bat for his brother, and he went to bat for his niece and nephew, and he did it so gently, but he didn’t miss a beat in speaking truth to me. I had the privilege of watching Uncle Tom adore his girls over the years. Super, super impactful to me to watch him be their biggest cheerleader as well as speak hard truths to them and to guide them along the way. They had some epic fights, but I have to say it was always good in the end and those girls always knew their daddy loved them without a doubt. I’ve come to realize as a parent how hard it is, especially when you have grown children, to speak truth and to let them find their own way. But I watched him do it. And I also watched him admit from time to time when he was wrong and have to say sorry, and as a parent that is no walk in the park. But highly recommended to say those sorrys. But his girls and his grand boys. I watched him love them so well and they loved him so well back right. All the way to the end. Girls, Brian, Teag, and Gray you preserved every drop of dignity for your pops. Over and over again. The task of caretaker is one of the most bittersweet honorable experiences I believe a person can have. It wasn’t easy but I know exactly how sweet it was. You honored Uncle Tom so well. So, with all that said when I considered what I wanted to leave you all with about our Tom. I thought about those last days, and I kept thinking I’m so grateful I had that last dance with Uncle Tom, the uncle who showed up. Uncle Tom was fighting a hard, hard battle. I believe almost a year ago Uncle Tom had a sense of what was coming. In the benefit of hindsight, we can see that now. He would pop in when he was in Illinois, and he ’d chat about all kinds of things but mostly about his Girls. He wanted to get things just right for them. To leave a legacy that mattered. It grieved him to think he might not get things just right. He was also pretty willing to tell me that no man needed to tell me how to run dads’ portion of the farm. That I had a brain, and I knew how to use it. And then proceeded to tell me how to do it. Him showing up on my porch is something I’m going to miss immensely. So, when the time came for Uncle Tom to fight his battles it was hard. The disconnect between his brain and his feet or his brain and his mouth was excruciating to watch. Let alone imagine how it was for him. He took that journey as well as anyone could on unknown terrain. So that dance. That last dance that I got to have. He was working so hard to get from the bedroom to the living room, trying to get his feet to work. I t just wasn’t coming together in that moment. So somehow it worked out that he had one hand on my shoulder and the other hand on my hip, KJ was on the floor and had the feet end of things. The only problem was that his hands would clench shut pretty tight, so he got a handful of back fat and that’s actually my problem. But it got a sweet smirk out of him when I protested. So, we started our walk, hand on the shoulder, hand on the hip, KJ in feet mode, and we started a shuffle dance to the living room. We scooted along and laughed and celebrated the hard-won victory of reaching the couch, but I will say it was one of the sweetest, most heart-breaking last dances I’ve ever had. A dance that was a privilege and an honor to be a small part of. Tom asked Dan, almost exactly a year ago, how he knew those he hurt or disappointed along the way were OK. I’ll leave that conversation private, but I think there’s some things that he would want you to know. The things he left as a legacy. One- F orgive all the things and don’t expect anything back, just unload the baggage. Sooner rather than later.

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