Everyone should have an Uncle Dan. He was younger than my parents, so he always had the cool factor going for him. As a child, the only time my hippie, crunchy, granola-y parents would ever buy twinkies or other junk food is when he was coming for a visit. He was funny and interesting and adventurous and made you feel special. And as I grew older, I knew that he was someone that I could rely on if I had real problems (like the time in college when my car was vandalized and my parents were fairly unreachable in Europe...the days before international calling plans). There literally isn't anything he wouldn't do for the people he loves.
Uncle Dan isn't on Facebook or Twitter, so we don't talk as often as I'd like. But in this recent email, right after the updates about what was going on in his life and with my cousins (who are on Facebook so I already knew), he closed with the following:
I think of you often and am most proud of the wonderful person you are and have always been. Much love to you, my niece.
I can admit that I teared up when I read it. And teared up again when I thought about it later. My mother passed away almost 10 years ago. My father and I have a complicated relationship. And my stepfather, while a wonderful person whom I know loves me very much, is not the most openly demonstrative person in the world. That means that it has probably been about 10 years since anyone has told me that they were proud of me.
*takes a moment to wipe away a stray tear*
Life goes by so fast that we often forget how much seemingly small things can mean. I'm an adult (or so my Drivers License tells me), but that doesn't mean I've stopped caring that the people I love and admire think I'm doing good. Which is why I'm going to make sure that my children grow up hearing just as much about the things they've done well as about the things I wish they had handled differently.
