The Absentee Uncle

Peter was sitting at his computer, trying to work on a script when he heard the news. His father had taken the time to call him, which meant something big because the old man rarely spoke to one another these days. Peter listened carefully his father broke the news to him; that the old man’s only brother, Peter’s uncle, had passed away. Peter’s father was the youngest of his siblings and this was the second passing in as many years. The year prior one of his dad’s sisters, Aunt Trish, had died and that one was a real gut punch. Peter really liked his Aunt Trish as he had nothing but fond memories of her. She was a kind, sweet, caring lady, and her passing had affected him greatly when that news came knocking. This time however, upon hearing the news of his departed uncle, there was nothing. He had heard months ago about the diagnosis, and while he knew the end was coming Peter never felt much about it and just went about his business. Peter never made any calls, or even sent an email to his uncle prior to his passing because Peter didn’t have any numbers or addresses to contact him with. The passing of his Uncle didn’t bring up any sympathies or sorrow, mostly because Peter barely knew the man. Hearing about his uncle’s passing was no different than hearing a celebrity passing on the evening news. It was tragic to hear, but had zero impact on his life.

Peter never thought on the news that long, and quickly went back to work. He didn't think about about it again until later in the day when someone knocked on his door about an hour after supper. Peter got out of his office chair and strolled over to the door to see his older brother standing there.

“Philip,” Peter said, looking rather surprised. “This is unexpected.”

“You weren’t picking up,” Philip said.

“I was working,” Peter replied, “I put it on vibrate when I’m doing well.”

“I’m sorry,” Philip said, as he understood how serious his brother

was about work. He held something up. “I just wanted to check up on you, and I brought drinks.”  

Peter looked down and realized that his brother was holding a six pack of strongbow, his favorite alcoholic beverage. The last time they had shared drinks like that was when their aunt had passed, and here his brother was again trying to share another moment in the face of what the older of the two thought was tragic news. He would be alone on that view.

“I see,” Peter said, as he stepped aside to let his guest in. “I’ve been working hard, so I could use a break. Come on in.”

“You’re actually writing?” Philip asked as he entered.

“Yes, I am,” Peter said, even acting a bit offended to hear that. It was a half truth, as Peter was procrastinating and doing a bit here and there as usual. He grabbed a bottle from the pack and popped the top off of it. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“Why not?” Philip protested, “We have a reason to drink today.”

“You might,” Peter corrected, “But I don’t.”

“What do you mean by that?” Philip said, rather surprised.

“What I mean is this isn’t the same as last time,” Peter said, as he walked away into the living room.  

“Why not?” Philip asked.

Peter took a deep breath. “Because last time I gave a shit.”

“But you don’t this time?” Philip inquired, rather surprised by the statement.

“No, I don’t.” Peter confirmed after taking another swig.

“He was our uncle!” Philip protested, “The man was family!”

“Maybe,” Peter conceded, “But it never felt that way for me.”

“So you’re not going to miss him?” Philip asked.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Peter honestly answered, “In order to miss someone, that person actually have to be a part of your life in the begin with. Our uncle’s now permanent absence while tragic for you, dear brother, is only going to be the same old, same old to me.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Philip said, as he walked over to the couch and sat down. “How could you feel this way?”

“That part is easy,” Peter responded, “The man was never around.”

“What are you talking about?” Philip asked, “We saw him a few

times here and there and when we did he was always nice and outgoing.”

“That’s just it,” Peter said, “He wasn’t around, he was just present. Sure, we saw him at family functions, events and what not. Yet that makes him no different than our distant cousins from Tennessee or Finland. We only saw him when we happened to be at the same place at the same time. We only got to interact with that man if we happened to show up at the same place he happened to be present at.”

“I don’t get it,” Philip said, “Wasn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s not!” Peter said, his anger rising a bit. “Answer this for me. When was the last time our uncle showed up to visit us? And by that I mean he made plans just to see us and us alone? Tell me, when was the last time that happened?”

Philip sat there and thought about it. He sat there in silence for what seemed like a long time but was only a few minutes.

“You see,” Peter said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “I can’t think of one either. That could possibly be because that it never happened. The man actually never made an effort to visit us, and want to hang out with us. The fact that I can’t remember even one example disturbs me just a little bit. Not even as kids did I feel involved, and whose fault is that?”

“You can’t put it all on him,” Philip countered, “Our Dad didn’t exactly make an effort to make plans with him either.”

“But that’s why I feel this way!” Peter continued, “I can’t grieve for a man that I never really knew. We never hung out and did a damn thing. No fishing, no ball games, no nothing! The man was an absentee uncle. He was family in name only and never did to do a damn thing to give me a reason to care.”

“Now that’s not fair,” Philip said, as he appeared to be a little distraught from what he was hearing. “The man was very busy, and he technically had two families to support. The man had responsibilities and shit to deal with. I’m sorry he never made time for you but I believe that his own kid’s and grandkid’s time was far more important than one bitter nephew.”

“I know,” Peter agreed, “I’m just trying to explain why I the way I do. I have no idea what kind of father, grandfather or even what kind of uncle he was because I never really had the chance to find out. I don’t miss the man, but I do regret not getting a chance to get to know the man.”

“Can you do me a favor,” Philip said, as he polished off his bottle. “And keep this shit to yourself at the service.”

“No need to worry about that,” Peter countered, “I won’t be there.”

“What?” Philip said, so shocked that he stood up. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am,” Peter confirmed, with zero emotion in his face. “I’m not going.”

“Come on, man!” Philip said, in near disbelief. “You can’t skip the service!”

“I can’t?” Peter repeated, almost laughing at the thought. “Watch me. Or better yet, don’t watch because I won’t be present. Just like our dear uncle was for ninety-nine point nine percent of my life.”

“That’s cold, dude.” Philip said, rather disgusted. “He wouldn’t do the same if it was you who passed away!”

“Are you sure about that?” Peter asked, “The last time I checked, our dearly departed uncle never showed up for mom’s service. Neither did most of his kids. Seems only fair that I return the favor and not make an appearance now. I’ve got more important things to do, like rearrange my sock drawer.”

“That’s not right,” Philip protested, “Two wrongs do not make a right.”

“They would fucking care!” Peter countered, “Would my absence even be noticed? I don’t think so. They never cared about what I did, and never will. Why would they start now?”  

“For someone who doesn’t care,” Philip countered, “You’re being awfully loud and passionate about this particular subject. People who don’t care don’t show any emotion and just walk away. Your anger is still a feeling, and emotions matter. Good or bad, you do give a shit. And if you skip that service the only person you’ll be punishing if yourself.”

“I don’t care,” Peter repeated, “And neither do they.”

“Even if they don’t care,” Philip countered, “That doesn’t change the fact that they’re our family, and whether you like them right now or at all is irrelevant. Whether or not they even give a shit whether or not we exist is also irrelevant. We don’t do things for them with the expectation of any reciprocation. We do this shit because it’s the right thing to do, period. Right now they are all in mourning, and that’s all that matters. Someone you’re related to lost a father, a grandfather, and even a brother. Just because they don’t give a shit to show up for us doesn’t mean we do the same, because we’re better than that. We know better, because mom raised us better. She raised us to care more about others than we do ourselves, and not showing up would piss her off and you know it!”  

“I understand,” Peter said, as his brother had a point. “But that’s just how I feel right now.”

“You’re not listening, because how we feel is irrelevant,” Philip repeated, “It’s irrelevant because funerals are not about helping the dead. Our uncle doesn’t care if we show up or not because that deadbeat is deader than Dillinger. Funerals are about helping those who are left behind, the people who are mourning and in actual pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” Peter said, “And I still don’t want to go.”

“You have to go,” Philip said, “Not for them; but for Dad, and for Mom. They raised us better than this, and that’s why we’re going to show up.”

Peter paused for a moment as he realized how much this meant to his brother. It dawned on him that it wasn’t just their parents that would look bad if he didn’t show; his brother would as well. Philip would have to be the one to explain his absence and take the ugly looks from people who would disapprove. Like a lazy English professor who would yell at his students about poor attendance, even though the people listening are the ones who actually took the time and energy to be there. It’s his shame that he suddenly realized would be front and center with each question he’d get from everyone else. That never seemed right to Peter when he attended those classes, as a sudden tinge of guilt began to crawl up out of nowhere.

“I’ll think about it,” Peter said, taking another bottle. “But no promises.”

Philip knew a concession when he saw one and graciously knew what to say in response as the battle was over.

“The truth is,” Philip added, “Our dearly departed uncle is the one who missed out, because we are awesome people. That man had the privilege of being the uncle to some pretty awesome nephews and he never took advantage of it. That’s his loss even more than it is ours. Our job is to remind them all how incredible we are by showing up and paying our respects, even when the asshole doesn’t deserve them.”

“That’s a good point,” Peter conceded, “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright,” Philip said, putting his empty back in the box. “I’ll let you know when I get more details. In the meantime, show me what you’ve been working on.”