Blessed Event

One night back in the 1980s, I came home to find my brother Peter and his wife had stopped by our house for a visit.

They were sitting in the living room with my parents and when I walked in, my brother loudly called out, “hey, it’s Uncle Wimp!”

Peter and I had a long history of relentless ball-busting, so I shrugged off his latest sophomoric insult and tried to move along. But he wasn’t letting it go.

“Hey, Uncle Wimp,” he said.

I was about to tell to shut his trap when I realized that the key word in his two-word insult was “Uncle”—meaning my sister-in-law was pregnant, and that I was indeed going to be an uncle.

Well, I forgot all about the “wimp” business and gave my sister-in-law a hug, I was just so damn happy.

The time flew by and the next thing I remember I was sitting at my desk at the Bay Ridge Home Reporter when my phone rang.

“Robert,” my mother said urgently. “You’re an uncle!”

“Boy or girl?” I shouted.

“Girl!”

“All right!”

I hung up the phone, ran right out to the nearest clothing store and bought an outfit for the newest member of our family.

And that’s the day my beautiful niece Kristin came into the world.

My parents and I would visit them often in Staten Island after Kristin came home from the hospital. I loved holding her in my arms and I would do anything to make her smile.

I always carried a photograph of Kristin in my wallet, and I proudly showed it to anyone at the slightest provocation—or at no provocation at all.

At some point, I took a photo of Peter and my sister-in-law sitting on the couch in their living room holding Kristin. It was a perfect family portrait, if I say so myself, but now, of course, I can’t find the damn thing.

I hadn’t thought about that photo in years, but now that Peter is gone, I’m obsessed with finding it.

The Wonder Years

It was so strange watching my brother turn into a dad, since it felt we were just kids ourselves a short time earlier.

I was talking with Peter on the phone one time shortly after Kristin was born and told me that “I have to get used to being a father.”

He wasn’t complaining—quite the opposite. He was just readjusting his vision to include this new and wonderful responsibility.

Kristin has grown up to a beautiful young woman and every year on her I regale her with the story of how her Nana told me the great news.

A few years after Kristin was born, my brother Jim and his wife had a daughter of their own, my niece Victoria, who has made breaking my chops something of a second career.

I have what Fred the Shrink calls a toolbox of various mental health techniques I employ whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed.

Chief among these is a simple chant I do—“Nieces, nieces, nieces!”—that reminds of all the wonderful times I’ve had with these lovely women over the years.

So, if I catch myself thinking about some dope who did me dirty 40 years ago (and this does happen, I’m sorry to say) I’ll do the nieces chant and then retrieve a funny or happy memory about Kristin or Victoria.

I’m like a DJ in a nightclub spinning records that the crowd wants to hear.

I’m still struggling with this gap in my life and I’m still thinking of various jokes and stories I want to tell Peter, and I’ve got to keep reminding myself that he’s not here.

One of our favorite TV shows, Resident Alien, has just started its fourth season and I miss discussing the episodes with him.

I was wondering how long it will take to get over Peter’s death, but I don’t want to get over it because that sounds like I’m trying to forget it. You don’t get over grief, you just learn how to carry it better.

This is Father’s Day and Peter has been gone for three weeks now. And now we face the “Curse of the Firsts”, where you painfully mark every holiday and anniversary since your loved one’s passing.

I don’t think I ever got Father’s Day cards for my brothers, but I always made sure to wish them the best on their special day.

And I’d like to thank Peter for bringing Kristin into our lives and for doing such a great job raising her.

Happy Father’s Day from Uncle Wimp.