Unkie

The day before I was scheduled to take my National Board assessments, my mom and I went to Columbia and stayed the night so we wouldn't be pressed for time trying to get there in morning work traffic. Shortly after we found the building where I would be testing that night, my mom got a call from my aunt telling us that my dear sweet Unkie had passed away. If you trace back on my blog a little ways, you will be able to read all about Unkie. In short, he was my grandfather...or the closest thing I'd ever had to one. Both of my parents' fathers passed away before I was born, and Unkie (my grandmother's brother) moved here from Florida just three months before I was born and stayed here until he passed away this month. He was 92. That wasn't old enough. Before he died, in the words of my cousin, Joy, I never imagined a world without Unkie. For some reason, I thought he'd live forever. I know that's not logical, or even vaguely intelligent, but I wholeheartedly believed it.

As I sat back and remembered all the good times with him, I cried and cried...not just because my Unkie was gone, but because my babies that I haven't had will never know him. That breaks my heart.

“Elegy for Unkie”

To the world, he was Clifford Bergstrom.
To all of us, he was our Unkie.
And to him, many of us were “Charlie.”

He was a veteran paratrooper who fought for our freedom,
And a kindhearted soul who loved us more than life.
When we were kids, anything a hug couldn’t fix,
A pack of M&Ms could,
And we knew we would find them in Unkie’s drawer.

When summer came, he cleaned the pool,
preparing it for the wave of children
that would soon run around Lois Street.
Rides home from school with Unkie
were like trips to the amusement park,
careening over the 378 bypass
at speeds our parents would never go.
Perhaps he learned to drive
from watching Mark Martin.

Unkie loved a lot of things…
Hamburger Helper, Chicken McNuggets, lemondade,
donating to charities, races at Daytona, piano music.
He could put the world back together with a tube of super glue.
And no one knew Young and the Restless like Unkie.

Of course, he had lots of hobbies…
following NASCAR, working in the yard,
carpentry, and hanging with Uncle Temus,
but Unkie’s favorite hobby was us.
He was a family man, evident from his bedroom
wallpapered in our photographs
to his constant attendance at family dinners
until just a few weeks ago.
He never tired of our neighborhood-wide
“Happy New Year,” and he was always around
for weddings and babies and birthdays.

He was a hero, not only in his service to this country
but in his service to his family,
A family that was forever changed when a sweet
little man moved to Nanny’s in 1984,
Living one of the fullest lives we could ever imagine…
even if 92 years just weren’t enough for us.

My Nanny and Unkie

I have not done as well as I hoped I would with updating this blog. It's been a busy week of trying to get my classroom back in working order before school starts...which is coming all too quickly.

Tonight was my night to cook dinner for my Nanny and Unkie. And this could probably use an explanation. My Nanny is in her late 80s, and for lack of any better description, she is a pistol...and a fiery one at that. She has an evil eye like no other, and she can hold a grudge for at least 80 years, I'm sure. Definitely not someone you want on your bad side. Earlier this year, she fell in her kitchen. She was standing on the top step of a step-stool, putting her cake plates on top of her fridge. (Did I mention she was independent?) In her words, she "got them up there just fine," but on the way down, she got caught up on a step and fell. My Unkie (fill you in on that in a moment) came home about two hours later to find her in the floor. An ambulence was called, to the hospital she went, and she had broken her leg/hip and her wrist. While she has recovered quite well, she is still not up to standing at the stove long enough to cook, so different members of the family have taken nights to cook dinner. Thursday is our night, and we love it.

My Unkie (one of my most favorite men in the world) is my Nanny's 90-year-old brother. He is a former military man and a family man who moved here from Florida to live with my Nanny right before I was born, and nearly 25 years later, he's still here! He is the only grandfather I've ever known, and I have always thought of him that way. Because I was the first "grandkid" he was here to see as soon as they were born, I have always been "his," and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Cooking for them over the past few months has given me so many special opportunities, but it has made me deeply regret not spending more time with them over the years. Their age is really starting to show, and it makes me sad that they aren't physically able to do all the things they used to love to do. I am thankful for the time I spend with them each week.