Uncle Digo

So whenever someone I know dies, I always find that talking about him/her to be kinda comforting. I'm going to talk about my Godfather, Uncle Digo. Now this isn't like THE Godfather...you know, that dude from that movie that I've never bunkered down to watch (isn't it, like, 3 hours???)...but this is my Godfather. The church kind.

He was my Dad's best friend. They were drinking buddies I guess, back in Jamaica...and apparently, whenever my Godfather got drunk, he sang an old tune: "There's a hooooooooole in the bucketttttt, dear Lizza dear Lizza. There's a hooooole in the bucketttt, dear Lizza dear Lizza." Now, by the time I came along, and Uncle Digo became my Godfather, I think he kinda calmed down a bit....because I totally don't remember him doing that. I do remember him talking with an English accent and wondering why, and according to my Dad, the only time he did that was when he'd had a few too many rums. "He only spoke proper English when he was under waters," my Dad told me. Uh huh...Jamaicans are filled with these random stories.

So as a kid, my experiences of Uncle Digo were totally different. I remember him as the guy who would let me play with his cool collectable cars. He had an awesome collection, and I'd always want to go off with them. My parents didn't let me go near their stuff, so this was just peachy for me as a child. I would also play with this rechargeable flashlight he had. Okay okay...so I totally played with flashlights as a kid...that's not so odd...is it? Any ways, so one Christmas I opened up my present from him and Aunt Vinette, and inside the wrapping and box was this grey, rechargeable flashlight. This made my games of hide n seek epic...because now it was hide n seek IN THE DAAAARK!!! Awesome. I think he found out much later how much I loved that present from him (I knew it was from him...Aunt Vinette always got me sweaters:) and it makes me happy to know that.

So over the summer we hosted a 50th anniversary for him and Aunt Vinette. It was about to become a disaster when we found out that Aunt Vinette wasn't feeling well and they canceled...not knowing that the party we were inviting them to was for them (surprise...). But when my Mom told Uncle Digo what they had planned, he packed Aunt Vinette into the car (carefully), and drove down to my parent's house. Knowing now that he'd be gone a month later, boy...am I ever glad he did that. We all had a good time, and I got some rare pictures of me with them. A week later he'd find out that those flu like symptoms he'd been having for the last 2 weeks was actually lung cancer.

I can't tell you how I felt when I heard the news. I knew that lung cancer wasn't the sort of cancer you'd want to get...not that you want to get cancer...but its survival rates aren't too great. We later found out that it hadn't spread yet and I was feeling hopeful again. As he went into treatment my Dad was afraid to visit him (because he didn't want to bother him when he was feeling like crap), and I was afraid to call him. So when we saw him for my Dad's 65th birthday on the August 1st weekend, it was kinda weird. Like, he was tired and he sat inside...and I guess people were afraid to sit down and have that awkward conversation about he being sick. I sat with him as we ate birthday cake in silence. When he was leaving (early for him...he was usually one of the last to leave) my Dad and I followed them out. I remember having that thought creep into my head, "Hey, this might be the last time you see him. Say something thoughtful." But I swept it away thinking that it was a horrible thing to think. I wish that little thought was wrong.

Uncle Digo would pass away only a few short weeks later. I heard that he was in pain, and it gave me some comfort to know that was all gone. I never saw that man complain about anything, not even the back pain that plagued him during his brief illness. I'm writing this...I guess...because I'm still in the denial stage of grief. It's easy to think he's still here since they would usually leave for Jamaica for the Winter and into the Spring. It's easy to think that he'll just be back in the Spring. But he won't be.

These things are always hard. It will never be the same when Aunt Vinette comes over. We'll always be reminded that he's missing. Having a family that lives all over the place but here, he was one of the constants in my life.

Time really does heal. I know this in my head...but right now it just doesn't seem like it.