Anchors Aweigh, Uncle Al.

Uncle Al with daughter Keli

My uncle Al passed away on February 14th.  He had been sick with lung cancer for a couple years, he fought HARD until the end, and as a result of this, I have been asking myself questions.  I am not religious, but I so hope that the end isn’t the hard truth that science gives us.  This has been a time of reflection, not only on his life, but on my own beliefs.  I’ve stalled on my gym attendance and my social outings, as a low-grade depression has come over me.  I know my mind is searching for answers to the questions I have always had about death and dying, and the motivation will return to me when I figure something out, or at least find a temporarily satisfying explanation until I begin to question things again.  This will be a long post, but I hope you will read it all and give your opinions in the comments.

I learned some things about uncle Al that I didn’t know about him while he was alive, like that he was born premature and the doctors didn’t think he would make it.  I learned that he broke his leg pretty badly, and once again, doctors didn’t think he would survive it.  His father went out on a fishing trip that uncle Al REALLY wanted to join him on, and his father drowned on that trip.  Uncle Al probably would have, too, had he been there.  So, to say that the man really wanted to stay here with us is an understatement.  Now, I will share with you what I DID know about him.

Uncle Al owned a doughnut shop in Pennsylvania.  I went there as a child, probably a few times, but I only remember once.  I don’t know how old I was, but I was pretty young, and I remember running past a mixer and being completely fascinated by it.  Not sure why, apparently I am easily fascinated, but that’s what I remember.  I remember the smell of the shop.  I don’t eat a lot of doughnuts these days (yeah, I am trying to live cleaner), but I know that any time I step foot in a doughnut shop, he will be the first person I think of.  He had quit smoking some time ago, but I will always remember the smell of pipe smoke around him.  I was at the funeral service thinking to myself, “uncle Al, if you ever want to get a hold of me, send me some pipe smoke.”

If uncle Al had a beverage in his hand, it was hot tea or a rum and Coke.  I haven’t been out to a bar since the funeral, but when I do, my first drink will be a rum and Coke.  I mixed him one once at a family Christmas party and he said he liked the way I mixed them because I made ’em strong.  I laughed.  I have no idea if he was serious or if he was just politely telling me that I needed to tone down the alcohol, but either way, his laugh was infectious and I will miss it dearly.

Uncle Al never missed a family function.  Family was his biggest priority, and honestly, he is an inspiration to me in that

Uncle Al and Aunt Dee, best buds

respect.  Everyone is always so busy with their things and their whatnots, and we often find ourselves sitting at funerals thinking “if only I had visited more”, or “if only I had called them to chat more”.  I am so glad that I was able to go visit him the Thursday before he passed.  I am glad that he knew that I was there for him, I am glad that I saw him once more.  My aunt Donna and I went to visit him while he was in rehabilitation after he had a trache put in, we played cards with him, his two daughters, sons in law, and his granddaughter and her fiance.  Bob cheated, Evan tried to cheat, too, I had not idea how to play and winged it for most of the game (still won, though), and we had such a fun time.  I don’t want to remember him sick, but I will still cherish that memory.  I am glad to know that he knew that I was there.  Is it sick that I wish that I had taken photos of him that night?  I mean, I’m sure he would have protested anyway, but I think if I had taken a few photos of him, I could look back on those photos and remind myself of his strength, still laughing and yucking it up while he was on oxygen.  Every ounce of his being wanting to kick that cancer and get back to life.  I know I would gain strength from that, because he just resonated with it.  Of course I would prefer to remember him not sick, but thinking of the opportunities to capture his love of life and family, right up until the end, that is the kind of soul that every photographer wants to capture in their work.

Darts

Uncle Al was an avid fisherman and hunter.  He loved the outdoors.  I wish I had the patience it takes to do either of those activities (not that I would do either, but I would love to have that amount of patience).  He had always been an all around patient guy.  I don’t think I have ever seen him get angry or frustrated.  He took the world in stride.  Me?  Not even close.  I get into a screaming fit every time someone cuts me off on the highway.  If I can take a lesson from his demeanor, I need to take that lesson.  He was always gentle and kind, never had a bad word to say about anyone, and was always willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt.

I wanted to leave a small bottle of rum and a Coke in his casket.  I’m sure no one would have minded, but something held me back.  Something always holds me back. Yet another lesson to be learned from uncle Al.  He never held anything back.  If he wanted to tell you something, it came out.  No holds barred.  One of his best qualities, arguably, was his ability to tell you that you messed up in the most patient, tactful, and FUNNY way possible.  The man was HILARIOUS.  He could have the whole crowd laughing in a matter of minutes.

Uncle Al was a charmer.  Every wedding we had, he would be surrounded with ladies.  He just had a way about him.  He was

Uncle Al, wedding professional

also the garter belt magnet.  I am pretty sure I have never attended a wedding in which he didn’t catch the garter belt.  I’m fairly certain he strategically planned these things! Nothing will ever be the same without him there, without his laugh, without his wit, but I will especially miss him at weddings.  He was a pro at weddings! He had the kindest eyes, eyes that told you stories.  He was one of those people that hung on your every word until you were finished talking.  You could always tell, too, because he had this funny way of mouthing the words you were saying while you were saying them.  I always wanted to ask him why he did that, or better yet, HOW he did that… it was almost as though he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.  Probably because he paid so much attention to you, that he probably DID know you better than you thought he did, hell, probably better than you knew yourself sometimes.  Someday I will find out why he mouthed along with you, but for now, that is one of those traits about him that always secretly fascinated me.

He lived with my grandparents for a long time, helping to care for my grandma as she slipped further and further into dementia.  He would help my pappaps care for her, and they would talk, and I am sure they shared moments together while my pappaps struggled to understand what was happening to his wife.  They became closer and closer, best friends.  Watching my pappaps cry for his friend when we went to visit Al that Thursday before he died was one of the hardest things I have ever seen.  All I could do was hold my pappaps while he cried.  My dad told me that was all he needed me to do, but I wish there was anything I could have done or said to change it, to have uncle Al here with us, to make both of their pains go away.  I’m sure that is a completely normal reaction to seeing two of the strongest men you know, both in such weak and vulnerable states.  It tore me apart to see Al sick and pappaps so upset.  All I can do is wish things, but I wish my grandma had been cognizant enough to say good bye to him.  I wish she hadn’t gotten sick.  I wish he hadn’t gotten sick.  I wish we were all younger and things were the way they were when I was a teenager and I thought everyone in my life was invincible.  Sadly, life is more fragile than we give credit for when we are young.

As I said, I wanted to leave a rum and coke for him, but I didn’t.  I was sitting at the funeral service, hearing all the wonderful stories about him, and I kept my gaze on the balled up tissue in my hand.  I had been staring at that tissue for the bulk of the service when it suddenly dawned on me that I had to put a little piece of me in the casket with him.  I had worn my PuraVida

Anchors Aweigh

anchor bracelet that day, my favorite bracelet.  As I stared at the tissue, the bracelet suddenly came into my view like a shining star and I thought, “well, hell.  Why don’t I leave him my bracelet?” it is the perfect bracelet for a fisherman like him, with the golden anchor and rope.  I figured, I would just go home and order another one, that way we could both have one.  Hell, just a week after the service I got an email that PuraVida had put my bracelet on sale for half off!  What are the odds, right?  Well, I got that order out right away and I expect my new bracelet in a few days!  I hadn’t even had the thing for very long, but it was my favorite little trinket, and I knew, had he seen it, he would have mentioned the anchor.  I mean, he loved fishing, he loved the water.  Furthermore, at least for me, the anchor meant a lot more than just fishing symbolism, it meant safety, it meant steadiness. I don’t have religion, I don’t know what I believe happens once we die, I know what I HOPE happens.  I know what I don’t believe happens.  I hope we reincarnate into another life somewhere and our souls just keep on going.  I hope this isn’t the last time my soul will walk the earth, even if it is in a different vessel.  I hope that someday I will meet Uncle Al again, though I don’t believe in a heaven or a hell, I hope someday when I am an old lady, I will see a young man in a store or on the sidewalk, and I will smile at him and say hello, and he will laugh an infectious laugh and it will be him, in another vessel.  We probably wouldn’t recognize each other, and that’s fine.  But our souls met again and everything was good.

Anchors Aweigh means that the anchor is clear of the sea bottom and the ship is officially underway.  It seemed fitting to me to bid uncle Al anchors aweigh versus “good bye”, as I do hope that his soul was set free to a new adventure, that his anchor, the only thing holding him here, his body, is clear of this Earth and his soul is officially underway.  I would like to hope that he gave me this revelation.  I would love to think that he was sitting there with me, checking out the turnout for his memorial service, laughing along with the stories being told about him and the memories shared, and his soul whispered to me, “hey Melissa, this isn’t goodbye.  You will see me again, in a healthy body, cancer and pain free.  So, this is anchors aweigh, never goodbye.”

Uncle Al and Uncle Sam

Anchors Aweigh, Uncle Al.  Until we meet again…

I’M BAAAAACK (from the dead)

Well, hello again, Phuktophiles.

 

I bet you thought I was going away forever, didn’t you? Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind. Let me give you a little recap of what my brain has been throwing at me since my last post.

 

First and foremost, I can’t quit art. Quitting art would be like quitting breathing. That just can’t happen. I tried. So help me, I tried. I failed. However, I guess failure to quit something that you love to do is technically a success.

 

Second, I got all down on myself because of a BOY! I know. It just hit me hard to realize that I wasn’t wanted AGAIN. What did I do? I shut the F down. Why? What is the purpose in that? Over a guy??? Fuck that guy. This is me. This is my life. You knew what was going on from the start. If you can’t handle me, then I guess I will find someone who can.

 

Right. Because we all know that I don’t believe any of ^^ that.

 

But, whatever. It is what it is. Am I hurt? Absolutely. It hurts even more because it was HIM. However, since he may or may not read this, that is all the further I am going to go with it.

 

I write, damn it. I write. That’s what I do. Moreover, I write because Twitter only allows me 140 characters and let’s face it, I am entirely too colorful and awesome to be limited in such ways. Facebook lets me ramble, but Facebook kinda bores me and irritates me. So, WordPress, here I am again to fill you up with all the lovely purple chaos in my brain. Don’t like it? Eh. *shrugs shoulders.

 

Now, let us get to the nitty-gritty. I am coming back from the dead, Mfers, so look out. I can’t quit art because art won’t quit me and I am finally okay with that. I look at people flooding the Internet with their mind-vomit all day long on social media and whatnot and why can’t I do the same? I would probably do mine on a much smaller level, however. What have I been up to over the three-ish months that I have been gone? Panicking. Panicking to the point that I had to explain to my bosses what a panic attack is, how to identify it when I can’t form the thoughts/words to tell them what is happening to me, and when to and when not to call 911. I had to come out of the panic closet to my bosses. Not cool, brain. Not cool.

 

I’ve also been depressed. Yeah, good luck trying to find it. I hide it well. Really well, unfortunately. This has been a long standing issue with me, but lately I have been fighting the urge (the overwhelming urge) to cut myself. I used to cut as a teenager and the threat of hospitalization made me cease and desist. Well, that feeling is back. Do you know what it is? It is the feeling of being so overwhelmed by emotion that you can actually FEEL the knife cutting your skin, even when you aren’t cutting. It is your skin making a map for you, like saying “this is where you should cut.” It is thinking at length about where you can cut where no one will find it. It is thinking at length about how you will hide the blood if you nick something important. It is the CONSTANT tingle feeling all over your body, the kind you get when you’re waiting for something to happen. It’s all of that, and it sucks.

 

That being said, I am specifically writing this now because in 2 hours time, I am going to do a photo shoot. You read that right. I am coming back from the MFing dead. Am I terrified? Absolutely. Is my leg bouncing right now as I type this in that typical nervous way that my leg likes to bounce? Hell yes it is. Do I feel pins and needles in my skin? I do, and they are quite uncomfortable. Do I feel like I am going to pee my pants? I do. I won’t, but I do. I am telling you this now because Phukt is not dead. Phukt is Immortal. I am currently going through my old negatives, finding work that I loved, liked, can improve upon, was a good idea but didn’t pan out the way I planned, etc., and I am going to become IMMORTAL (through my work).

 

Stay tuned, Phuktophiles. I hope to take you on this journey with me. I hope that a little bit of what I do inspires people like me to do the same. Let’s do this, neurotics! We can beat this shit!    

Hey Pappaps, it’s me.

Remember this picture?  It was taken shortly before you were.  I miss you like crazy, I hope you know that. 

 

I know I’ve never written you all those letters that I have wanted to write you.  I guess I just hope that you can read my thoughts or something.  I don’t know.  I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately, and I saw you last night.  I don’t know if you came to visit because Pupster and I were talking about you, or if you felt like I really needed you.  If that’s why, then you’re right.  I do. 

Truth be told, I’ve been needing you since you left.  I know I haven’t been to see you lately.  I also know that you would be furious with me for not visiting Grandma as much as I should.  I have to be honest with you, I want to go see her, but I’ve not been in a very stable mental state lately.  I know you would say that isn’t any excuse, and I agree.  I just need to get my wits about me and get over there.

So, why am I FINALLY putting my thoughts in to words?  Well, like all other things, I am hoping that the Internet will get my message to you.  That’s silly, I know.  I’m sure you would give me a look over that one.  I suppose this note will be floating around in cyberspace, maybe easier for you to access?  I’m sorry, I don’t know how this “heaven” thing works 🙂

I wish you were here to see how we all turned out.  I mean, I know you can see it, but I really want to ask you how you feel about how I turned out.  I want to know if you would be proud of the path that I’ve taken.  I know, I know, you were the mechanic and Grandpa Ingham was the printer.  Hahahaha I’m sorry I didn’t follow in your footsteps, but I know NOTHING of cars and a whole lot about art and printing, so the choice seemed natural.  I know you would tell me to continue to be strong.  I feel really cheated because I don’t feel like 13 1/2 years was long enough for us.  I know that you knew that I loved art, but did you love it, too?  I never got to talk to you about it. That isn’t fair.

Well, I know you see us, and I know that you know that Tray, Pupster, and I have been struggling a little bit lately.  I know you know this because I saw you last night in my dream, and you only come see me when you know I really need you.  I’m sad that we didn’t get to chat, but I did see you.  Was it because Pupster and I were talking about you yesterday?  I think, if you two had been given more time together, that you really would have enjoyed each other.  She always laughs when we tell her about the silly things you used to say and do.  I guess we both need to rely on Tray and Dad to remind us.  Like I said, 13 1/2 years wasn’t long enough.

Well.  I guess I am writing because I think all three of us can use a little of your guidance right now.  I know, you already know that.  I wanted to thank you for coming to see me, next time we can chat for a while. But now can I request a favor?  Would you please go see Tray, if you haven’t already?  Maybe make a swing back by the house and pop in on Pupster for a few, too?  I would really appreciate it, and I think they would, too.

As for me, I’m gonna keep on keeping on.  That’s all I can do, right?  Do you remember the last time I came to see you?  I was shooting a wedding right down the street from you and I found you quite by accident.  I didn’t realize where the wedding was!  Anyway, I was a panicked mess that morning until I got to you, but somehow you made me feel strong.  I photographed the hell out of that wedding!  Hahahaa Wait, is it okay for me to say “hell” around you now?  🙂 Wow.  It’s been too long since I came to see you.  I’m sorry.  I promise to come see you more often, too.  Do you hear me when I think to you?  I hope so.  Well, you must, because I always feel stronger after I think to you.  You and my Dad — always manly, strong men.  Hahaha  You gave us that trait.  I know we three girls have been wavering a bit lately in strength, but we will find it again.  I promise you that.  We are Jeffrey women.  We’re tough as nails. 

Well, my Mom and I talked about you again today.  I am still amazed when I look at your photographs at how much I am your spittin’ image.  Everyone tells me that.  When I show people your photo and photos of Dad, the response is always the same.  I am a Jeffrey.  No doubt about it.  🙂  That makes me happy. 

All right, I’ve taken up a bunch of your time.  You’ve probably got a lot of other folks you’d like to check in on.  How’s the fishing up there?  Hahaha Do you think I could catch another fish with a just bobber?  How epic was that?  I’m a born fisherman.  Hahahaa

Take care of yourself and of us (just like you always have).  I miss you like crazy.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t still think of you.  Isn’t that crazy?  No,  I reckon it’s not.  I reckon?  Hahaha!  Geez, how my dialect changes when I talk to you!  Hahaha!  I SUPPOSE it’s not. 

All my love, till I see you again.

Missy (aka Mitzy LOL)