We said our good byes to my Uncle Nate last night. Friends and family gathered to wish their friend a departure from this consciousness. I didn't plan on crying. At this point in my life the crying at funerals is supposed to be reserved for mothers, fathers, and grandmothers. Nate managed to pull a couple out of me.
Nate left big impressions on many people. He was a big man with strong capable arms, and a big heart that never ran dry for those he loved, especially his grandchildren. My "Aunts" repeatedly related to the broken girls how often Nate talked about them and how much love he held. One granddaughter in particular seemed especially hard-hit. She reminded me of myself, being of a similar age, when my grandfather passed. Grandfathers and Grandmothers are important people in the extended family. They have the opportunity to shape character and create fruitful memories. Nate certainly succeeded in his mission as a grandfather.
Nate Finch served in the armed forces in the Vietnam era. He often talked about being stationed in the far reaches of Alaska. His job was to listen to the airways and watch security footage. He'd always say they had three categories, Friendly, Enemy, and Unknown. He'd always smile at that "unknown." "Some of the stuff we saw we just couldn't explain," he'd say. He couldn't offer much more than that other than a wispy telling of what he referred to. It's not that the information was classified or on a need-to-know basis only. He simply didn't know and was still open to the idea of not knowing. I think I loved that most about him. His sense of wonder. He was OK with not knowing everything. Some men of age need to act as though they've got it all figured out. Nate was willing to admit he had an open mind about the world. I'll forever be grateful for that little lesson he passively shared.
That was Nate's way. Nate's son, Kevin said that as children they wanted to join the little league baseball team. Nate told his sons, "You can play baseball or we can go camping in the summer, but you can't do both." "Dad, why not?" the sons protested. "If you're part of a team then you need to be a member of that team. It's not fair to your teammates to be gone half of the season, but still play in as often as the other players."
My brother also shared a story. He was young when we went on that camping trip I mentioned in a previous post and the only thing he remembered of the trip was receiving and losing a pocket knife that Nate gave each of us as a gift. The knife was confiscated for reckless behavior. My brother was defiant at first toward this new guy and his discipline. But after a conversation about safety and responsibility he had a change of heart. Last night my brother stated, "I don't remember the words Uncle Nate said. I don't even remember the details of the situation, but I remember how he made me feel. I felt like this guy is alright. He wants what's best for me."
There's a great truth in that memory. Words and actions will be forgotten, but impressions will be felt long after we're gone. I'm going to miss Nate for the positive impressions he left. And I hope that when my time comes my loved ones will be able to say the same.