A young teenaged boy reflects on his father's brother (his uncle), who died at the sudden age of 36 due to heart problems. His uncle was mentally disabled.
Hi! You may not remember me, but I wrote awhile back about my uncle, Mortimer Haskell, who was my dad's youngest brother. He lived with us for the past three-and-a-half years after the place where he lived shut down, and it has been a challenge ever since.
You see, my uncle (we called him "Mortie") was not like most: he was born with a disability that affected his mentality (at the age of 35, he was more like a child of four or five), and he had some accompanying physical features, like eyes that tilted upwards, like a Chinese man's, a flat nose, a round, moon-shaped face with the consistency and feel of bread dough, thin, sparse hair that was brown mixed with grey, and a roly poly shape; he was short and round; he reminded me of a beach ball. He had something called Down's syndrome, which meant that he was born with an extra chromosome, and this was what caused his disability. He also had serious heart problems, and it was his heart that finally killed him about two weeks ago; and ever since we (mom, dad, my little sister, Wren, and myself) have been walking around in a daze, trying to come to terms with his sudden and unexpected death.
My uncle worked at a sheltered workshop for disabled people, and he loved his job very much. He was proud to be earning "many dollars", and he looked forward to his job each and every day. He loved to play pretend games like cowboys and indians, hide-and-seek, and other childhood favorites, and he loved to watch the tv. He also loved to color and sing songs about Santa Claus, Jesus, and whatever else came to his mind; and he loved swinging on the swingset in our backyard. He also loved to eat (his favorite food? "Fried chinny"--chicken--and mashed potatoes with gravy, also string beans and corn), and he loved spending time with his little buddy and best friend, my little sister, Wren. Wren and my uncle were very close, and they were always together, it seemed. When he died a few weeks ago, it tore up my seven-year-old sister to pieces, and ever since, she has trouble sleeping, and it seems that she can't stop crying.
My dad is an emotional wreck too: he walks around in a daze, and it seems that he can cry easily, something he has really never done; but something in my uncle's death released a deep-set hurt that my dad carried in his heart for years, a hurt about having a brother like Mortie. The kids in our neighborhood always used to pick on him, and I would get so darn mad at them; I got into more scraps with the neighborhood kids defending my uncle, and I often was in trouble at school because of some stupid comment a kid made about my uncle. I admit that my uncle WAS a pain in the butt at times (I often had to babysit him when I would rather have been hanging out with my friends or playing a bit of b-ball), but he WAS a good friend, and he never had anything unkind to say about me or anybody. He was always happy go lucky, and he enjoyed all that life had to offer. He was all for enjoying the simple pleasures of life: the sunset or sunrise, the laughter or smile of a child, the feel of the cool breeze rustling through his thin hair, or eating "chinny" for supper again. He also loved tv and going to church (but the organ music always made him cry, as did the rain; he didn't like the rain or storms, and whenever it would rain or storm, he would be crying and quaking in terror; and it would take some time to calm his fears).
My uncle certainly was not like most, but I have learned that he was a valuable friend, and he taught me to see the world through his eyes; and it gave me a new insight (and respect) in how to treat people who were disabled, and he also taught me how to love and how to BE loved. I shall miss him very much, and I will never forget him as long as I live.
I have known a few kids with Down's myself.
They have had several heart surgeries as well!
Your story brought me to tears Karen! *(cry)*
Your writing is excellent as always! Thank you
for sharing this wonderful piece with us today!
Your Best friend in North Texas as well,
Becca
What a wonderful memoir. I have known several children like Mortie and they all died of heart defects. The gene that causes Downs also affects other genes in the body's organs. I truly believe these children are special angels loaned to us. Thanks again for a wonderful story. Judy
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
