It's hard to pinpoint when I first met Gregg. We grew up in the same neighborhood and suddenly, he was just there, driving around in his cool car with his cool friends trying to impress my sister. I'm 7 years younger than my sister, Charlene. So of course, when she was a teenager, nothing was more cool to me than anything she was doing. So hanging out in the driveway, or the yard, or the street, just waiting for Gregg and his friends to drive by and stop became a bit of a summertime pastime. At that time, what stood out most was how nice he was to me. At that age (I'm guessing around 8 or 9), not too many people were nice to me. I was too skinny, wore glasses, and was painfully shy. But he (and his friends) were nice to me.
As Gregg watched me grow into my young teens, he became the guy that would give dirty looks to the boy in the neighborhood who was trying to impress me. If I looked sad or my sister told him a boy hurt my feelings, he would ask if I needed anyone beat up. His parents let me swim in their pool and they eventually became extended parts of our family. Gregg's father, Jim (who passed away from cancer in 2007) made a point to show his interest in my life at every family picnic or gathering. I always figured that Gregg got his personality from his father, who was always so warm, sweet, and caring.
What bothers me a great deal about his absence from my life from this point forward is the impact that it will have on my children. When I married my husband in 2007, his two kids from his first marriage became part of my family. My family has been better than most, in my opinion, at embracing the children as their own and fully integrating them into our family. But I'm here to honor Gregg and who he is so I will focus on his part. While he was someone who the kids only saw a handful of times each year, he stood out to them in their memory. I was quickly reminded of the knack he has for making children feel special. He would talk to them at their level, and show kindness and respect that many people just don't have for children. He would get on the floor and play with them, whether it was Barbie's, Bey Blades, or just wrestling around. The kids remembered him even when they were younger and looked forward to seeing him because they knew it would be fun. That experience in their life is now only a memory. While I can help them cherish the memory, I'm saddened that the experience of having "Uncle Gregg" is no longer in their future.
When I was talking to my 11-year-old, step-daughter Emily at the funeral home, I told her how glad I was that she had a chance to know Gregg. I was happy that she became part of my family so that she could know not only him but everyone in my family. I cherish them. I cherish him. Her family is small and distant and it grew both in numbers and love when she entered my family. I will be forever grateful that Gregg showed her what an uncle can be, made her feel important and special, just like he did for me when I was her age.
I cannot even bring myself to imagine what my sister, niece, and nephew went through on that day. Or what they continue to go through today and every day. But I wanted to share this story with everyone who knew him because his family deserves to know how important he was to everyone. This was just my story.
 |
| My Graduation Day. Pride in his face. Like a brother. |
