Remembering Bill

My Uncle Bill died early this week in his truck of natural causes. He was 57 years old. Most of you won't know anything about him or that my dad even had a brother. I don't know enough of his story to give any background, and what I do know doesn't need to be told. Here are some reflections and memories of my Uncle Bill.

...

I've been thinking a lot about my Uncle Bill this week. Just about everything. I wish I could have known him better. I only met the man once in my life! He was always an elusive character to me growing up. We used to send him a Christmas package every year, but eventually we stopped because it made him feel bad that he had nothing to give in return.

I also recall a few letters he wrote to my dad. The paper was thick, and it smelled of cigarette smoke. He would include a few scented sticks or something to mask it.

We have a few pictures of Bill at our house. My favorites are the ones of him as a kid - the awful junior high school picture and cute portraits of  him as a little boy.

He would call once in a blue moon to talk to my dad. This would always get my dad going. I know he loves his brother, but talking to him would only bring sadness and frustration.

As a kid, the impression I got from my dad was that he didn't like his brother and that they certainly didn't get along. I understand better now the situation and their relationship. My dad shared with us the legendary story of Billy and rock n' roll star Randy Rhodes. My brothers all have copies of the old photograph of the two young rockers.

I finally met my Uncle Bill at age 13. We went on a family vacation to California to visit the Petersons, go to Great America theme park, see San Francisco, and visit my brother JR, his wife Kristen, and their new baby, Cali. (Probably the best family vacation, hands down.) Anyway, Bill showed up with his girlfriend Linda while we were at Nana's. I was intrigued by this man that looked so much like my father, and yet was so very different from him. At times I thought he was crazy because he repeated himself a lot and didn't always make much sense. I had almost been taught to be afraid of him. But I liked him. He was so fascinating and different from anyone I'd ever met. And he's my Uncle.

There's so much I don't know about him. But here's what I do know: Billy made many wrong choices early in life. He has had to live with the consequences of those choices for the rest of his days. Despite all of this, he was a good man. He had dreams and ambitions. Big dreams. He had real talent - as a musician. as an artist. as a writer. He had a good heart. A big heart. He lived a simple life. in his truck. in various parking lots. He was and is loved, and he loved.

For whatever reason, his time to exit this part of life was now. but he is still living, and in a much better place. I look forward to the day when I will be able to meet him again. without all of the hardening effects of life on his body and mind. We can have a Peterson Jam Session :) I'm grateful for the Plan of Happiness and the peace it brings to me and can now bring to my Uncle Bill.

Love you, Uncle Bill. Rest in peace.