The First Time I Lost Somebody
And how it helped to reshape my life
Recent events in my life have took me back to just before COVID, November 2019 to be exact. I had just started 2nd year of university, and was now living with my then girlfriend and her friends. I was arguably in the happiest time of my life up to this point, everything was perfect. The only negative thing was one of my uncles, one of my dad’s brothers, had bowel cancer. He had entered remission twice, and it had come back a 3rd time.
Now, technically his eventual death wasn’t the first bereavement I had felt. My mum’s grandmother, and my father’s mother, had both died 10 years or so prior, but I did not really know these people. I was so young at the time that I had never really spoken to them, and I barely remembered many interactions with them. They were gone, but they never really affected me, not like my uncle.
For context, my uncle was a successful businessman, who had worked in banks all his life. He lived down in London, and had his own canal boat in later years. Because of this, I never really saw him much, only Christmas and sometimes Easter, and we didn’t speak too much, because it didn’t seem like we had much in common. He was very tech savvy, and loved old school rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, bands I was yet to get into. My brother spoke to him a lot, since they were both very similar in that regard.
Therefore, you are probably wondering how this death affected me more so than the last two. Well, firstly, I was 20 at the time, so I had fully matured and developed my brain (some may argue otherwise), and I felt his presence missing a lot more than what I felt when I was younger. But, really it was because during his last 6 months, I saw him more and more.
When he started getting seriously ill with his cancer, he needed a care home to look after him. Another fact about my uncle was that he was a rather heavy set man, probably weighing around 20 stone, and therefore he struggled to look after himself, especially when chemotherapy started. So, he moved back up north, and lived about a 30 minute drive away from my uni accommodation and home. My dad and his siblings would visit once every few days, whereas I elected to go once a week, for an hour or two. I tended to go on a Tuesday, as this was the day where he had no visitors other than me.
The visits started before I moved to university, but continued once I had moved. In those 6+ months or so, I got to learn about his life. He told me stories I had never heard before, he talked about when he was my age, and the things he would get up to. Even when he was having a poor health day, he was always great company and always got a lot of laughs out of me. One of the main things I remember was I would always ask if he wanted anything from the shops as a treat, and he would always ask for Uncle Joes Mintballs, as they had always been a favourite of his, so I always tried to get him some.
Around Halloween of 2019, I went with my then girlfriend to the city, and one of the reasons was I saw online that they sold tubs of the mintballs, and I thought it would make a nice thing for my uncle to have in his room. Sure enough, when I reached the sweet shop, I found a tub of mintballs, which had enough to have probably have lasted a month. I was so excited to pass them to my uncle, as I knew he would be thrilled he could have them in a larger quantity than a small bag. Unfortuately, he never did have one of those mintballs, as the day I passed the tin to him, was the day he passed. He made little sense that day, and I am not sure he was even aware me or my mum were there.
Shortly after his passing, I remember asking my dad desperately to retrieve the tin from his things before it was thrown away. Thankfully, I got it back, and now it sits in my room. My plan is, when I move out into my own flat, I am going to fill it with dirt and grow something into it, as a memento of the time I spent with my uncle in those final months. I may not be a gardener, but I will try my best to let something spring up from the memory of our time together.
So, you may be wondering what the subtitle of this article refers to. Well, during my time with my uncle, I learnt a lot from him. I already knew he had moved away from home to London at the age of 16, which I thought was so strong. He had great conviction, and followed his passion, something which I hope I can do where possible.
Another thing I learned from my moments with him was about his focus on his career. Because he had built up such an illustrious career, he had never really met anybody. He had friends and a happy life, but he had not been in a serious long term relationship from my understanding. I never could tell whether this was on purpose, or whether he ever felt any regret, but that was the day I decided I would not let my career ambitions overshadow the rest of my life, I would be happy to work minimum wage in a job I enjoy, if it meant I had time for love. To me, aspirations without affection is not worth it.
So, nearly 4 years after his passing, I still live by the lessons learnt from the time with my uncle. William Pearce, A great uncle and a greater friend.
