There are simple men, there are complicated men, and then there are men like my Uncle Bob.
In some ways, all of the Dziak’s have a little bit of practicality mixed with complexity. In talking to others, I began to notice how rare it is to have a family like ours.
You see, while finding my way through grief, I talked- to friends, coworkers, family- I talk about these memories I have with my uncle. I somehow realize they are all the memories of him I ever will have now.
The conversation usually starts with this definitive statement of loss – My Uncle has passed. More often than not, there’s a sincere apology, followed by “Were you close?”
This question doesn’t seem too evident to me, but I shrug and say conclusively, “Yes, I have a very big family, and we’re all pretty close.” I share stories of our holidays at my grandparents’ house and of Christmas parties. I talk about my friends and I walking to my uncles Bob’s house, only about a 5 minute walk from my own. I tell stories of hanging with my cousin Jessica, watching the Little Mermaid and swimming in their pool. I speak to all these memories I have of this family.
As the flawed humans that we are, all too often we don’t realize how important these moments are until they’re gone. In the days since Uncle Bob died, there’s this one memory I keep coming back to. He was a caring godfather to me my entire life, and I hate to try to sum it all up to this one instance, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like it spoke to who he was, at least to me.
I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I believe I was about 10. At this age, I was obsessed with country music. Maybe it was the fact that I recently discovered CMT while flipping through the channels, but my prepubescent-self was convinced I would become a country music star. Uncle Bob had given me a few country CD’s for my birthday, Billy Gilbert, and my idol at the time, Shania Twain. I begged my parents to buy me a guitar for my birthday and, the incredible parents they are, they did.
My hip, albeit small, guitar was my most prized possession. Uncle Bob, upon hearing of this news (likely from my father) offered to help teach me how to play. So, one summer day, I walked the few minutes from my house to his for my very first lesson.
When I arrived I was smiling so big I thought my lips would fall off. In his living room, he was prepared with 2 chairs, his own guitar, and his first lesson – tuning the guitar.
But wait- this is playing guitar? Where’s the fun, the twang, the music? Uncle Bob, seeing what probably was a heartbreaking sight of a 10 year old in a pink cowboy hat pouting, patiently explained that I would get to play a song, it just would take time. He then played me a song to show me he meant it.
I stuck with this for a little while longer, I’m not sure how many more lessons we had- maybe 4 or 5. In one lesson, I learned how to hold the pick, place my fingers on the neck, and strum a chord. Around the second or third lesson, my fingers began getting calloused. He assured me the pain was part of the process, and as I learned to play, so would my fingers. That the callouses would actually help me play better.
Uncle Bob shared with me stories while we learned- he talked a little about music, growing up as a kid, and his collectibles. And, every time we finished a lesson, he’d play a song for me to show me what my hard work could accomplish. He’d try to take requests- but mostly, he played the songs he enjoyed playing.
After those 4 or 5 lessons, I did learn to play a song. “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I don’t think I could play a single chord of it now, and as most 10 year olds, it was a phase that ended as quickly as it began.
Although that phase may have ended, those lessons taught me much more than how to play guitar. I learned that the pain we feel today will make us stronger tomorrow. I also learned that, as farfetched as it may seem, a dream is still worth chasing- and at the very least, it’ll make for a great hobby. And, I learned to be patient – what takes only few minutes to enjoy can takes years to create.
I think of all my memories in this way now. It took many years to build this family. But, the parts we enjoy the most last only a few minutes at a time.
I’d like to take this time to say Thank You to my Uncle Bob. As we all look back on our time with you, our memories of you will have different melodies and keys that they are played in. You created a sound in this world as unique as your own rhythm, and we were so fortunate to hear that song.
