Dear Uncle Ron
a letter to the man who named me.
Dear Uncle Ron,
It’s me, Chase, from the future! I don’t know how to begin so I’ll just start writing things down as I think them. Buckle up. I was asked by a writing exercise to write a thank you letter to someone who has encouraged me in my creativity. It’s a time travel exercise so the person needs to be from my past and you were the first person I thought of. Thank you.
You read a poem that I wrote in the 2nd grade. One about dragons dancing until midnight I think? You seemed really into it and not in that “adults pretending to be enthusiastic about things” for kids way. That’s what sticks out in my mind. You always seemed to be impressed or entertained by the things that I wrote. Later, you shared that you chose my name because you felt it was a good name for a writer. Which is what you felt I would one day become. What a powerful thing to tell a young kid. Well, I was. I am.
I am writing this to you as a 43-year-old man. I have 4 kids now that I wish you could meet so badly. I’m in my second marriage and it’s with a person who couldn’t be a better match for me. You would love her and her art and writing as well. My oldest, Connor, has your middle name. You weren’t able to be here, but when Grandma passed away, I was there with her. I made sure your mom knew how loved she was. How important and meaningful her life was to every one of us. She was surrounded by family and love.
Hey. I know that I can’t reach back into the past and change things but I want you to know that it’ll be ok. You’re going to decide one day that life is too hard. And life? It’s really fucking hard and I don’t know what it’s like to be in a place where I am taking steps to end my life but I am married to someone who does. And I understand it even more. Without living through some of those darker times. Losing you splintered my life. And everyone around me. I am not mad at you. I just miss you.
Shortly after you are gone, my mom will show me your little poem book that you filled with poetry that you enjoyed. Flipping through, I saw Jim Morrison, Henry David Thoreau and. . . me. My poem from the 2nd grade. It was written down in that book. That would be the final time that you directly encouraged me to write. I tried. Many times. And life - life is hard and I let it beat me over and over. I’d give up all that writing to be able to have you around and know me as an adult. Meet my family. I’ve missed you, man.
Okay, I lied.
Things weren’t okay. Things got hard after you died and I adjusted to a new reality that felt really unstable. That shaped me to my core and ultimately informed me as a person forever. I am not mad though. I am regretful. I will continue writing and I wish you could see, hear, watch, laugh, and share in the things that I have done. The things that my kids have done. But you’re not here anymore.
It’s been decades, Uncle Ron. Since just before I started high school. Remember, you were painting the walls of my house and I was seeing you every day after school. Sharing things I’d said or written that day. Then, one day, you weren’t there.
You weren’t anywhere.
Love,
Chase
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