My Uncle Carl

Today would have been my Uncle's 81st Birthday.  Last year, three days before his birthday, I had a premonition that I would never speak to him again.  I told myself, if he didn't answer the phone by a certain time I would call the police.  Sure enough, on March 9, when he didn't answer the phone by 4 PM PCT, 7PM EST, I called the police in Long Island City, NY and told them to break down the door.  They found my Uncle, wedged underneath his bed, still alive.  He thought he was there for two hours.  I knew he was there for two days.  They rushed him to the hospital, and I received a call from the emergency room doctor, telling me that he had a stage 4 massive brain tumor, and they were sending him to Mt. Sinai Hospital in NYC.  My heart dropped.  Shocked, that none of us knew, or had the slightest inclination that something was wrong.  I had to break the news to my father - and that was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

I flew to NY the next day, and stood by my Uncle's side.  Not knowing where the knowledge of what to do, or even having the strength came from.  I just knew I needed to be there for him.  When the brain surgeon came in, he gave us little time to make decisions.  He wanted to operate right away.  My Uncle and I told the doctor, that when we were ready, we would tell him.  A life and death decision couldn't be made in a matter of seconds.  The doctor wasn't pleased.  But as I told him - it wasn't his life we were deciding upon.

Looking at my Uncle and holding his hand, I  said, "Well, what do you think?"  He said, "I am damned if I do, and damned if I don't!"  I said, 'Yes, pretty much...but what do you want to do?" He decided to go ahead with the surgery.  I kissed him, and said I would be there the whole time. My Uncle never shed a tear.  He never said, "Why me?" I was amazed by his courage.

He did make it through the surgery.  The prognosis was 10 months with chemo and radiation.  He didn't want to do either.  Three months is all we had.
He died on June 2, 2010.

My Uncle and I had a very special relationship.  Yes, he was my Uncle, yet he was so much more.  He was my teacher and my mentor.  I will always cherish our special bond.

During our last few months together, we talked about so many things.  I brought him a book of poems by Robert Frost.  I asked, "What is your favorite poem?"  He replied, "The Road Not Taken."
I asked why that was his favorite, and he said, "Its all about choices.  About good and evil."  I read the passages of the poem, and replied, "Its not about good and evil, Uncle.  It's about choices.  It doesn't matter what road you take, you will eventually end up in the same place." He smiled at me, and didn't say anything.  I read him the poem.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted it I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost