My uncle Kevin, known to all as 'Big Kev', passed away two weeks ago at the age of 73. He was a good man, a good father, a big brother and a caring uncle. He never missed my birthday, or christmas, and was always there for not only me but my father, who he spoke to every day. He always asked about me and my siblings and even when I didn't consider it, he was always there.
The Red and Green Scarf
When I was 10, you asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I said 'I want a red and green scarf', and that is what you got me.
When I was 11, you asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I said 'I want white earphones', and that is what you got me.
When I was 16, I told you I was on my way to buy a Lego set. You said 'I want the Lego bonsai tree' and that is what I got you.
I went to your house three days ago and the Lego bonsai tree sits in a little plastic display, neat and clean and pink. I didn't know you had a real bonsai tree in the garden, but it looks more like a skeleton now. It must have once bloomed with lush, green leaves that glow in the sun, sprinkled with dew. It stands solemn like it knew why we were all there. Its head bowed towards the ground and it mirrors my guilt, my burden.
You see, I should have called you more. I should have visited more frequently, but I didn't, because you never think to until it's too late. I tried to say my goodbye, placed my palm flat to the golden oak surface of your coffin as if you would know I was there.
When I was 19, you saw me at a family wedding. Although I did not speak much, when it came to say goodbye, you wrapped your arm around me and said, 'I don't really know what you're doing these days, but it looks good on you.'
I still have that scarf, hanging on the back of my bedroom door, and you still have that plastic bonsai tree that I got you so many years ago. Maybe my goodbye isn't as poetic as yours, but as long as that little pink tree stands, so will my love.
I wish I had called you more, so now I ring my dad every day, and he misses you, I know it. I will look after him for you, your little brother, and now you can finally rest peacefully.