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On the 6th of November in the year 2007 my uncle Johnny Kitchens passed away at 7 am in Doctors Hospital. I believe he was either 48 or 49 years of age. Sadly, he died of cirrhosis of the liver brought on by alcoholism.

There are the base facts of his death, the cold, stark, impersonal truths of a horrible event. You can sit back and read that and feel nothing except perhaps a bit of shock at his age or maybe even chagrin at the cause of his death and how he chose to live his life.

What those hollow words fail to capture is how his sudden death has affected those who loved and knew him. It's a horrid waste of life. John's gone. Not coming back...ever, due to alcohol. He left behind his 15 and 26 year old sons, a grieving mother and father and four brothers.

Their sadness is heavy and near choking... hard to observe because there isn't a damn thing you can do, yet necessary to the grieving process.

How has all of this affected me? Well I suppose you'd need to understand that for the whole of my life, up until this point, I have never had to deal with the death of someone I knew. Also take into account that my brother and I spent a lot of our youth with my uncle and his family. Going to the lake, softball tournaments, vacations.. many things.

For years I have been trying to mentally and emotionally prepare myself, as well as one can, for losing someone I loved. Morbid you say? I would disagree vehemently to that superficial observation. Just take a second to think about it.. I mean really ponder. Do you think about losing someone you care about? Do you make sure they know how much you care about them on a daily basis? Have you been affected by death yet?

I know we all think about death and those we love dying. How am I going to react? What am I going to do? We all asks ourselves these questions at some point. For some people, maybe a spouse, or a parent or child, when our minds touch on them and link them with death we shy away from any train of thought that would lead us down that  darkened, twisted, dangerous path. I believe these thoughts to be part of the human condition. Death, the inevitable thief, our macabre shadow, is never very far from our thoughts.

So when my uncle Johnny passed away I was shocked. On November 5th, my birthday, I went to see him in the hospital. He was on a morphine drip, unaware but awake. I sat up there with him, my father, my oldest brother, my Grandmother, Aunt Angie, Uncle Jerry, and cousin Stephanie for two or so hours. When we got ready to leave I identified myself and told Uncle John that I loved him and would be back later with my dad.  My father had even spoken to my Uncle Bruce who was flying in from Chicago the next morning. The ironic bit was that we were still making plans for the next day. The next day the doctors told us we would have...

Imagine the stunned surprise when he died the next morning. I can admit that in some ways it was a good thing. Uncle John was no longer suffering or in pain and the family didn't have to continually say goodbye to him, but the finality was crushing. Here today, gone tomorrow and grieving loved ones left in the wake.

 I can't imagine what it's like for my Grandmother, grandfather and his brothers.. they had to see their oldest son/brother die and die horridly. No parent should ever have to witness their child's death. It's not how the natural order should occur. Parents should pass before their children. Though I'm well aware nothing ever happens as it should I can still raise an angry, impotent fist at the injustice of it all.

So how am I doing?  I'm sad. The grief hits me at really odd moments and I'll cry for a bit. I'll think about Christmas or Thanksgiving and BAM! Johnny will never share another one with us. Such a simple thought to be so damn heavy. What can one do but come to terms, deal with the issue, and carry on with his memory and name ready and always present in our minds, hearts and souls?

My mind.. friendly at times and at others it can be my worst critic and enemy. The thoughts running through my head  range from worry, as in where is he now, which in turn lead to even deeper questions about souls.. then sadness and maybe even a smile or a couple of laughs.

Memories are my motivation and inspiration to smile fondly. I can recall Uncle John sitting down in his room playing Stairway to Heaven on his guitar.. or when my brother and I rode home from the hospital with Uncle Johnny and Aunt Donna the day my father was shot and how pissed off he was on my Daddy's behalf. They come at odd moments.. those little brief glimpses into how he affected my life.

Bottom line, my uncle lived the life he wanted. Live hard and play harder. Drugs and alcohol, consequences but no concerns.

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

I hope you enjoyed your ride Uncle John.

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