More Morbid News

...Or, how I lost my Southern Roots.

Yesterday, my Great Uncle Wayne passed away. After a long series of illnesses, he passed away in Hospice care.

A lot of people would say "woah, great uncle, were you close?" Well, it's hard to put it into words, but he was basically my Father figure for the first third of my life.

You see, my Dad, a Pennsylvanian, joined the Navy in 1969 and ended up stationed in San Diego. He didn't know anyone there, so his co-worker, Wayne, brought him home for parties and gatherings with he and his wife, Sue. At the time, Wayne and Sue had their niece living with them (while she was in college). Somehow, Dad and their niece fell in love and got married. Some point a few years later I arrive.

After San Diego and Charleston, SC, dad and Wayne both got stationed in Norfolk, VA, so we were all living fairly close together. Dad was at sea a lot, and many times, Wayne and Sue would come get me to take me off of mom's hands for a bit. I was quite fond of my Uncle Wayne. I especially loved riding in his big red truck (Dad owned a bright yellow malibu, and I LOVED trucks). Uncle Wayne was VERY protective of me.

One time, Dad was at sea and Mom and Sis came down with a nasty flu. Wayne found out and drove over, grabbed some of my clothes, and wisked me off to his house so that I wouldn't get sick. He and Sue treated me like I was their own child and not "Great Nephew Scott."

Many years later, I spent a summer with them in Connecticut when Mom and Dad were getting ready to move us all from Virginia Beach up to the podunk little town of Grove City, PA. Sue and Wayne tried to enroll me in a private school in Connecticut so that I could be on target to go to Med. school (they had it in their heads that I was going to be a doctor). Mom got pissed, and booked me a flight to Pittsburgh. That bitch!

About 7 years after that, I was graduating Medical Assisting School and Aunt Sue's friend ran a clinic near her in South Carolina, so she told me that I should come down for a "visit." Well, we got off of the plane, Sue got me into a shirt and tie, and zipped me over to the clinic for an impromptu interview. Needless to say, I got the job and started living in Sue and Wayne's camp house (aka trailer) by the lake with my cousin. They lived in town, but wanted me to feel a bit more independent. I spent most evenings at their house for dinner and weekends hanging out with the family.

Unfortunatly, even then, Wayne's health wasn't the best; He had had a stroke and his alcoholism and asthma were getting the best of him. After a few months, I just couldn't watch him getting drunk and sicker each day, so I left. I've always felt guilty about that, because I really love both my aunt and uncle, but I just couldn't sit around and watch him die mostly at his own hand.

So, now, I really need to get down to the funeral, but can't afford the flight (this is memorial day weekend afterall) and won't drive it alone (it's 11 hours and I've been having panic issues lately). I just don't know what I can do. I miss him very much, but feel stuck where I'm at.

Oh well, thanks for listening! And if I don't seem very perky lately, you'll know why.

Labels: observations

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