"An uncle is a joy to remember your whole life through." ~Unknown

Everyone should have an Uncle James.  My Uncle James was my mother's youngest brother.  When I was little he lived in the same town, and he was always coming over to visit.  He played the guitar, and my favorite was when he would play and sing, "Boney Maroney."  He would give me money, and he would buy my brother and me candy cigarettes and burn the ends so they would look real.  (I still can't believe my mother let him do that!)  I remember one day he showed up at our house on a motorcycle he had just bought.  He took my brother and me on a ride around the block, making sure my little self was tucked snuggly and safely in front of him with his arms around me.  I adored my Uncle James.

At some point in my childhood he moved with his family to Ft. Worth, but he continued to be a part of our lives.  He always made sure he visited on holidays, and other times, just because.  Uncle James and Aunt Sallye always made the trip back for important events in my life - they were there for graduation, and for my wedding.  And Uncle James always made me feel like I was special.  He made everyone feel that way.

Nine years ago, my daddy died suddenly as the result of an accident.  That horrible night when I arrived at my mother's house, and the dark, sad reality was beginning to settle in on me, Uncle James called, and it helped me to just be able to hear his voice.  The next day he drove from Ft. Worth to Longview just for the day.  He went with us to make funeral arrangements, and he was just there for us, because that's what Uncle James always did.  He drove back home that same day, only to return a few days later for the visitation and funeral.  Uncle James was always there.

in recent years, with the advent of Facebook, Uncle James joined.  I loved how he always "liked" and commented on my pictures or status updates, and how he always ended his comments with "Luv ya, little girl!"  

A little over a year ago, we were once again shocked by a sudden, unexpected death - this time it was Uncle James who suffered a massive heart attack in his son's back yard while building a playhouse for his granddaughter.  He was only 65.  I miss him.  He was a loud, happy, loving man who suffered a lot of tragedy in his own life - at the young age of 15, he came home from school one day to find his mother dead, and he served our country in both Korea and Vietnam.  But you would never know he had lived anything other than an idyllic life by meeting him.  From Uncle James I learned to enjoy music and life and Wahoo; to not worry so much about the little things.  I also learned from him that family is important, and the attention we pay to the young ones in our families has long-reaching effects for good.  It really is too bad that everyone can't have an Uncle James - I'm thankful I did.