Memories of Al
by
Bobbi Gibb
September 2008
There has never been a time when Al has not been here as a guiding force and warm and loving person who I’ve looked up to and admired. Even as a toddler I remember Al at our family gatherings. He was a huge bear of a man with a booming voice and warm embrace. He always had a smile for me and kind words of praise or encouragement.
As I grew he encouraged me to run. He was the only person I can ever remember who supported and encouraged my running. He used to exclaim, “You float when you run!” And I’d run all the harder. He’d egg on my cousins, Jeff, Richie and Mike to chase me to make me run. “Look at her run!” He’d shout. “You have a gift for running,” he told me. I didn’t know that. I just liked to run. I didn’t think it was anything special, but he made it something special.
He had a gift of making people feel special. “I love people,” he would say and it was true. His love helped to heal us all. After my mother’s painful divorce, he was there to give her comfort and to listen sympathetically to her pain. He had the gift of compassion. Whenever he would hear of a particularly hard time I was having, he’d offer to help. I always said no thanks, I’m OK. But one time he sent me the money to buy an airticket home. He wanted to see me he said.
He was the only person in the world who ever called me, ‘darling.’ That was his term. He probably used the same word with many people. It always made me feel loved, as if somewhere in the world there was one person who cared and who loved me and if I ever needed protection would protect me.
He was a beautiful soul and has always been a force for good in my life. To me he meant family. Even when my own family was falling apart he was there to remind me that I still had a family whatever happened, however confused I
was or however lost I felt. He was always there. Even when I couldn’t see him, I knew he was there, big, strong, protective and loving, a kind, gentle father figure to me.
When in my dimwitted way I began to realize that despite his strength he was dying, I was filled with a sense of helpless loss. I wanted to rush to him and hold on to him so he couldn’t go. The thought of him suffering was more than I could bear. I rushed in where angels feared to tread with my pathetic gifts of nutrient drinks wrapped up in an insulated bag and laid them on his
front porch as if on an alter. I then walked to the old beach grove behind his place and, surrounded by the quiet of those ancient trees, I felt uncontrollable sobs wrack my body. My Uncle Al was dying and there was nothing I could do.
I never got to see him again or to hear his voice, but his last words to me will reverberate forever in my heart, “Good bye darling,” he had said, last time we talked on the phone. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said. I hung up the phone so he wouldn’t hear me cry.
No comments:
Post a Comment