not here right now

To My Uncle Jim

I didn’t know what to think when I saw you dancing at that party. I introduced you to my boyfriend, but I’m awkward so I scurried away to introduce him to someone else.

I didn’t know what to say when you visited on the holidays, you were so happy and outgoing, back when I walked on eggshells.

I didn’t know how to respond when you thanked me over and over for getting you that job that paid $15/hr as a security guard at the college.

I didn’t know how to feel as you slept in your hospital bed, we weren’t allowed to talk to you (according to your new wife). You didn’t want us to say goodbye.

I didn’t know how to act when I found out you passed away from stomach cancer as suddenly as you did. You were always so alive, excited, talking a mile a minute, and then you were gone.

I didn’t go to your funeral to avoid the family squabbles (I’m sure you don’t miss those).

I didn’t invite you to visit me in Houston like I said I would.

There are a lot of things I didn’t do.

I didn’t say goodbye, so it’s almost like you’re not gone. You’re just not here right now.