--William Shakespeare, 'Richard II'
If a child is very lucky, she will have an Uncle--one with a ready smile, a joke to tell, and coat pockets filled with candy. For me, Uncle Seamus was that Uncle. Every Sunday afternoon we would visit him, often for hours at a time... He would talk and laugh with my mother, play cards with my father, and endlessly entertain my siblings and me. We all thought Uncle Seamus was wonderful.
Things changed irreparably the year I turned 11...Trouble was brewing within the family; rumors abounded, and accusations rained down on our heads-- all of them about Mama and Uncle Seamus. According to the rumors, they were having an affair... I suppose that particular rumor was true; I once caught Uncle Seamus myself, stopping by to see Mama while my father was at work. After he left, Mama said "It's best if you don't tell your father he stopped by." So I never told, but someone else surely did...
After that, Mama and Dad fought a lot. Doors and cabinets were slammed, arguments were never-ending, and the word "divorce" was batted back and forth like a ping pong ball. When asked point-blank, Uncle Seamus didn't deny it--he laughed like it was all a big joke. It didn't seem to matter that no one else was laughing. Needless to say, we stopped going to Uncle Seamus' house on Sunday afternoons. Later, when Gram chose to side with Uncle Seamus and the accusers, we stopped going there, too...
With an 11-year-old's sense of justice, I decided that Uncle Seamus wasn't so wonderful, after all--for making my father sad, for making my mother cry, and for making Gram not love us any more. In truth he had betrayed my father's friendship, humiliated my mother shamelessly, pushed my parents to the brink of divorce, and caused such an uproar in the family that we were no longer welcome at my grandparents' house. I didn't then understand the enormity of what he had done. Even so, I was indignant; I didn't care if I ever saw Uncle Seamus again...
Twelve years passed before I DID see Uncle Seamus again--and then it was only to pay my husband's substantial bar tab in Famous Seamus O'Brien's pub. I walked up to Uncle Seamus' polished bar with 2-yr.-old Siobhan on my hip and a wad of cash in my hand. I handed the money to him, and apologized for Garrett not paying him sooner. Uncle Seamus just smiled broadly and said "You don't have to pay me--we can just trade it out..." Before I could even speak, my once-favorite Uncle pinched my breast. In front of Siobhan. In front of all his customers.
I was appalled. I stood in my Uncle's pub with my child in my arms, feel tawdry and dirty and cheap--through no fault of my own. Holding Siobhan close, I turned and ran to my car. How it crushed me to be betrayed by my childhood hero, my own uncle... I quietly cried all the way home. Seeking comfort and solace, I called Mama as soon as Siobhan and I got in the house. Tearfully I told her what had transpired earlier, how Uncle Seamus had broken my heart...
And then Mama went on to rip my broken heart from my chest, throw it on the floor and stomp it flat... First, she called me a liar, and denied that anything untoward had even happened (I am not, nor have I ever been, a Liar.). Then she said I must have misunderstood (What's to understand? How could it be any clearer?!). Finally, she said I must have Done Something to give him the impression that he could put his hands on me (in effect, turning it around to make the whole thing MY fault.). Then she hung up on me. My own mother. Now I was devastated...
Uncle Seamus had wreaked enough havoc in our lives during our childhood-- but I guess he couldn't resist a parting shot. He had now managed to turn the rift between Mama and me into a chasm that would never heal. And as for Mama...she turned her back on me when I really needed her--and that hurt most of all. I never saw Uncle Seamus again, and I never forgave either of them...
Days passed; the days turned into weeks, the weeks into years--Time marched on, as it is wont to do. Dark memories of Uncle Seamus stayed tucked away in the darker corners of my mind....
Until I heard the news today--Uncle Seamus has passed away.
"Death is not the greatest loss in life.
The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." ~Norman Cousins
Shed no tears for Uncle Seamus...
Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay;
The worst is death, and death will have his day.
--William Shakespeare, Richard II
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