My uncle George breaks my heart. He’s the sweetest man but goes un-respected and unloved. My uncle Steve was Grampa’s favourite, since he’s accomplished and smart.
George is an artist, and fragile of heart.
He is honest and loyal and always has my back.
It makes me so sad that people treat him like crap.
He had measles or mumps at a young age, which gramma says held him back. One of those old world children’s diseases we only know from our vaccinations.
Since he had a stroke he’s been kind of a sad sack, my mom loves to use that phrase with my aunt. But I love him anyway because I can get down with that.
There’s no one funnier who makes me laugh, at the absurdity of the Winnipeg Jets or his frog in a baseball cap. Inside jokes.
He studied animation but someone “stole his idea,” he painted canes but old people prefer chairs with wheels.
He has a customer service job which is kind of insane, since there’s no one crankier at least not that I can name. It’s the kind of thing that let’s me know God has a sense of humour.
I love my uncle George, I love him the best. Fuck all you haters you all fail the test. He’d like that I think, he’d giggle with his chest, water glass bobbles up then down with a mess.
My uncle George makes me cry, so it’s easier to write this in rhyme. There’s too much pain for his bio to be the same and it’s kinda lame but maybe it will get better.
This story is part of: “10 Bios in 10 Days” by Jane A. F.