My uncle died on Thursday leaving a greater understanding of who he was.
All my life, I knew him as the antisocial, callous, judgmental uncle. In the last year, he became the sensitive, stickler for education, remorseful of the time he specnt away from the family uncle. At his funeral, I learned that he was the salsa dancing, committed to his wife uncle who actually felt pain.
Did I agree with his methods? No.
Did I understand his choices? No.
But what the hell does it matter?
He had the right to be whomever he wanted to be, and I respect him so much for being unwavering in his beliefs, unapologetic for his actions, and undiluted him.
Uncle Mike lived as he wanted to, and that's hot.
So grateful for the time I had with him and the lessons he taught me via life and death.
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