You'll be missed Uncle Wes!

My Uncle Wes (my mom's oldest brother) passed away last Saturday from a sudden and unexpected heart attack. We are traveling up to Minneapolis today for a memorial service. He was a good person and I'll miss having him in my life. He was EXTREMELY good to my grandmother who depended on him for many things on a regular basis as well - so please send out a prayer or good wish to my family (especially my grandma and parents who are taking on the lion's share of responsibilities following his death while still grieving losing their son and brother). Here's something I wrote for the service tomorrow:

As we were driving home Thursday night, my Fiance Ashley asked what Uncle Wes was like. That was a harder question to answer than I had anticipated. Uncle Wes was an interesting character. That was for sure. And I found that to describe him and what I remembered about Uncle Wes to someone who’d never met him was difficult. Then it just came to me – his voice in my head, and that’s really how I remember him most. I think I almost scared Ashley to death when I just jumped right into my best Uncle Wes impression…

“WELL T.J…. LET ME TELL YOU HOW IT WORKS…”

He had a big booming voice that carried across the room or the dinner table, ensuring everyone heard what he had to say, whether they wanted to or not. I still wonder about the authenticity of some of his grandest tales, but whether what he was telling us all was true or not was probably not as important as some of the things he taught me:

Uncle Wes taught me that sometimes you SHOULD be loud and brash, even when it’s not the most popular statement or seems a bit odd to everyone else. If you have something that you truly feel needs to be expressed, say it.

He taught me that even as a tiny kid, if I did it just right (and I’m not sure I ever did), I had the power to make a big, black, doberman get in the back of a car.

Finally, Uncle Wes taught me not to worry so much. Just after moving from Colorado to Iowa a few years ago, I was struggling to find my way in life and went into a deep, dark depression that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Eventually, with help from my family, friends, doctors, and medication I was able to slowly crawl my way out of the black hole I’d buried myself in and get my life going in a more positive direction. At the same time, Uncle Wes was in the hospital and not doing well as an infection had put his life in serious jeopardy. I called him a few times to let him know I was thinking of him and to wish him a speedy recovery. On about the third call he asked how I was doing. I was honest, and told him “Better, but not great – it’s still hard to get up in the morning sometimes and I feel pretty lost.” “Ahhh.. I see,” said Wes, “Well I know your mom and grandma have been very worried about you, it’s all they talk about.” Then he went on to the part that I still remember. “Me, I’m not worried about you. Sure, you may need a little help here and there, but you’re NORMAL. You’re TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD. You’re not supposed to have any idea what the hell to do with your life. Just quit worrying so much and do your best – you’re just as messed up as the next kid trying to make their way in the world – no more, no less.”

I still remember that phone call and think of it often. Uncle Wes didn’t care that the doctors had diagnosed me as depressed or put any stock into the stigma that often surrounds mental illness. He let me know I was just another person in this world dealing with some problems, and made it clear that he believed I’d figure things out when I was good and ready, and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. It made me feel better; it made me feel normal again. And while it’s been a long road, things have been pretty darn good since then.

Thanks Uncle Wes.