Early last week, Chuck notified us at Football Central that his uncle had passed, and that he'd be unavailable for a few days. Standard operating procedure, I thought. We've all had uncles or aunts die, and upon sharing the news with others it is often met with the usual condolence messages -- genuine concern and sympathy, but generic sentiments and nothing deeper -- because others simply don't know much (if anything) about the deceased, or what (s)he meant to that friend or colleague who just lost them. For whatever reason, unless we're told otherwise our assumption is that it's someone seen and/or spoken to infrequently, at weddings, holiday gatherings and the like, or a person with whom contact has been more a family obligation than a mutual desire.
I had no idea Chuck was planning to write about his Uncle Deni. It was a busy week, so I didn't see his article until I made the last of our team's editing passes prior to publishing. And it really hit home.
Chuck's piece resonates because it opens our eyes to his unique relationship with a special guy. And the odd thing is that while most of us make the most simplistic assumptions about someone's family member upon their passing, most of us also have an Uncle Deni (or Aunt Denise) in our lives -- that one relative outside our immediate family who we seem to make a closer connection with than all the rest. While reading the piece, and seeing those great photos, I was able to imagine watching a game with Uncle Deni, playing catch with him, needling him over an Irish loss, or sharing a beer and a laugh.
Chuck succeeds not just in keeping his uncle's legacy alive, but in sharing it with others and reminding us that it isn't always some boilerplate distant relative who's been lost. It's something to keep in mind the next time someone we know informs us of a family passing.
I can't think of a better tribute, and I now know how large a gap Uncle Deni's passing has left in the heart of a friend.
