joscelyne

When I was 13, my Uncle Nelson and I were grocery shopping near Christmastime. I got busted for shoplifting. My uncle saved my ass by paying the fine of $100 plus the cost of what I stole - a stupid hair clippy thingie. (I know, I was a stupid teenager, but asking my dad for ANYTHING was like asking for death. I'm not kidding. Most kids aren't kidding when they "joke" about having strict Asian parents.) I cried my way out of "getting arrested" and having a record, but I did get charged the fine, which Uncle Nelson paid. The only reason he agreed to pay it instead of telling my dad is that we both knew very well that my father would have killed me. Seriously. Since then, Uncle Nelson would remind me that I owed him money. As a dumb teen, I got upset with him every time he brought it up, and I'd think about how much I hated him for yelling at me and trying to be my dad. (He lived in our house for more than half my life, both in Northern CA and AZ.)

This morning I woke up at 6:30 to a call from my older sister saying that he passed away. He wasn't even that old. Honestly, I don't know how old he'd be, but his birthday is next month. I don't know the details, I just know that he's gone.

I still owe him the money.

This is really hard, because his and my dad's brother - my godfather - Uncle Phillip passed away last year w/o anyone knowing for a week. That hit us really, really hard. I believe his death is still under investigation. He was the only godparent of mine that ever cared about me and showed it.

I don't think I'll be around for a bit because I'll be trying to fly out this weekend or early next week for the service.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.