#dear uncle

[crashingheavens]

@hisdaddy​

Oh she’s listened alright, and heard plenty. 

[cumbriacrack]

Homecoming for Alan Ayckbourn’s Cumbrian-set Dear Uncle The final Main House show of Theatre by the Lake’s 2019 Summer Season is in rehearsals – and one which could not be more fitting for the Lake District venue Full story: https://www.cumbriacrack.com/2019/07/15/homecoming-for-alan-ayckbourns-cumbrian-set-dear-uncle/

[denizlekesi]

Belki bir deniz kenarında,

[crimsonsquare]

Dear Uncle

I never got to meet you. All I’ve got are some old photographs and stories - from my parents (although they didn’t know you well - that’s what happens when brothers are split up at 13 and 4, respectively) and most recently from your boyfriend. I met him yesterday; I’ve decided that he qualifies as “uncle”, too. Transitive properties of familial relationships and all that.

He lent me a book, about the stories of people who lived with (and in your case, died from) AIDS.

There’s two poems from you in it.

In one, you refer to yourself as the family disgrace.

And I wish I could tell you: You’re one of the very few people in the family where I’ve always been unequivocally proud of being related. Probably the one I’m proudest of. Your father and step-mother weren’t proud, but your only living brother, his wife and their kid are. To us, you’re the family pride, you could say.

(Okay, you didn’t really have a lot of competition, Also, that pun was awful.)

Before I knew I was trans, before I knew I was queer - I grew up wanting to be Just Like You.

(Part of that was probably my parents attitude: I learnt of “gay” more as “what you were”, of “AIDS” more as “that horrible disease that’s the reason I never got to meet you” and of you as “the one person in the family who was probably most like me, the one who played with some of those toys before me”.)

I grew up talking to your grave. I grew up milking my parents for any scrap of information I could get about you. I grew up proudly declaring in kindergarten that “gay’s not an insult; my uncle was gay” - or, well, the German translation. I grew up being compared to you in little things, and feeling so proud of that I could have burst.

I grew up nebulously knowing you’d done something for LGBT+ rights in our home country (thanks Mum), and learnt you were an activist and really active in the community. I saw a photograph of you in an ACT UP shirt yesterday.

You played in a band. I’ve found some of the songs on YouTube. You were  awesome. ... although seeing you in fetish gear is kind of weird. Really cool you had the self-confidence to do that, kind of weird that it’s me seeing that old picture and learning you really liked leather.

Also really weird - and nice - to see that we’ve got the same hands and weird hair twirl in the back. Dad has them, too.

I can never tell you any of this. I wish I could.

But I can tell one thing to everyone else: If you think of yourself as anything like a “family disgrace” right now for being queer... some thirty years from now, there might be a kid in that same family who’s also LGBT+. And who’ll learn of you, and before they even know that they’re queer themselves, think of you as a hero. 

Dear uncle, you’re still one of mine.

[wazzuptonight]

Video: @KunivaD12 – Dear Uncle This video titled Dear Uncle is from D12 member, Kuniva. Finally, an artist with notoriety speaks up about the monstrosities affecting the world we live in today throughout the United States.

[perpetualviolet]

L'ULTIMO SORRISO

Se n’è andato anche l’ultimo amatissimo zio, che ora vive nei ricordi e nel cuore.

Il fratello di mio padre non è stato un padre, per me, ma di certo di mio padre aveva tutti i difetti, e in lui ho rivisto, fino a due giorni fa, proprio papà.

Quando ci siamo rivisti, due giorni fa, mi ha detto che ero una chiacchierona, mi ha detto che papà lo stava chiamando, e mi ha detto che sperava nel miracolo.

Parlavo tanto, per distrarlo, ma lui era stanco. Stringevo la sua mano, e l'ho baciato come avrei voluto baciare mio padre, che non c'è  più...In quel momento, vedevo papà e gli chiedevo perdono di averlo fatto morire in solitudine, senza di me.

Legato alla vita fino all’ultimo, proprio come papà.

Che strano, si può essere legati alla vita anche quando questa ti sta dando solo dolore?

Si, lo dico con certezza. Non credo che mia mamma volesse andarsene, né mio papà, né zio…sofferenti, esili, affaticati e stanchi, vinti dalla malattia, ma attaccati fino all’ultimo respiro alla vita.

Vicino al suo letto, la foto dove lui e papà si abbracciavano.

 Papà sofferente, vicino alla fine dei suoi giorni, nella sua sedia a rotelle, e zio già malato, ma ancora in grado di macinare chilometri per venire a trovare suo fratello, al quale restavano pochi attimi di vita.

Ed è stato per questo, che, due giorni fa, siamo partiti alla notizia che zio era alla fine. Qualche ora di automobile e  l’arrivo nella sua stanza,  con gli odori e le ombre della morte.

Zio chino su  sé stesso, con gli occhi stanchi ma grandi, alla ricerca di focalizzare figure e pensieri, che mi diceva di papà…di me….dei miei figli….e di mio marito.

L’ultimo sorriso è stato, sì, quello, davvero un miracolo. Mio figlio, sapendo che lo zio era un tifoso della Lazio (con zio, al Ciocco nella Garfagnana, ho visto, da ragazzina,  gli ultimi allenamenti di Re Cecconi e di tutti i giocatori della lazio!), gli ha detto il suo forza Roma, come faceva quando la malattia e la morte erano lontane anni luce. E lui ha sorriso. L’ultimo, straordinario, innocente sorriso di mio zio, prima di andarsene.

Sarò sempre grata alla sorte che mi ha permesso di stare lì, e poterlo salutare come non mi è stato concesso di fare per mio papà. Sarò sempre grata a mio figlio, che gli ha regalato l’ultimo sorriso, compiendo un miracolo che la morte non riuscirà a cancellare.

Caro Zio, ti dedico queste foto che, da lassù, spero ti arriveranno insieme ai miei pensieri per te.

e guarda, Zio, che se lo fa una romanista, significa che ti volevo proprio e davvero tanto, ma tanto bene.

Autore: Emanuela Sannipoli

[b-o-n-e-s-a-w]

It's been a year today. I miss you like hell. It's not gotten easier, but I've learned to live with the pain.

[b-o-n-e-s-a-w]

So it's your birthday. I'll be going over to your house tonight, to be with everyone and to remember how amazing you've always been. I just want to tell you that all is, mostly, well. You've not been forgotten and we are still learning from your incredible virtues. Thanks for everything you did. Funny how we're getting together to celebrate your life still.

Oh yeah, Keith and Allison came, they miss you to. Well, happy birthday.