My uncle had a stroke this weekend. The news came via text from my cousin Josephine who was at the family gathering where it occurred. It took me a minute to comprehend the news. And another minute to remember that I wasn’t there. Or anywhere close. It is one of the worst parts about living so far away from home– shit goes down and I’m not around.
There are a lot of us in my family, so despite my absence– no child will go unbabysat, no shift at the hospital unmanned, no person unhugged. We are a true force to be reckoned with and we’re a damn organized bunch. We’ll clean your house and stock the fridge, pick up the dry cleaning, your kids from school, make sure everyone has clean clothes and the dogs get walked. We travel in packs– my family and god bless them.
Knowing I am unable to hop in a car and be at their side weighs on me at times. It makes me wonder what I’m doing so far from home. The updates keep coming on my uncle. We pray and wait and hope. Please do the same. For that is all I can offer from 1,100 miles away.