To say that writing this is hard would be the understatement of 2013. Heartbreakingly painful would be closer to an accurate description.
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| Uncle Drey, Drey Jr., Kymorah, and Aunt April. Circa 2009 |
Uncle Drey was 34 years old, born on November 21, 1978. He had a devoted fiancee and was the father of two children: a seven year old son who looks exactly like him and a six year old daughter with this really random squeaky voice. He went to the hospital because he had the flu and less than two days later, on January 14, 2013, God found an available place and called him home, leaving those who loved him here on Earth shocked and brokenhearted.
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| The infamous red Easter suit, April 1981 |
Everyone who knew and loved him will have different memories of Uncle Drey. Some will think about him in his cute little red Easter outfit in 1981; others about the first car he ever fixed up by painting it white and covering the entire interior with fabric that had playing cards on it and installing fluorescent lights (the original Pimp My Ride). I obviously wasn't around for the questionable Easter attire, but I definitely remember that car. He was so proud of it and, at age five or six, I thought I was the baddest thing out there because I got to ride in it.
My memories of Uncle Drey are so vast that there's no way I could ever talk about them all. What he means and meant to me cannot be summed up in simple words, though I'll try.
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| My first birthday, August 1991 |
When I explain to people why I had to go home, they first give their condolences and many follow up by asking if we were close. A simple yes doesn't really cover it for me. I have to answer by explaining that he taught me how to ride a bike and, along with my daddy, drive. During those awesome, youthful, blissfully simple summers in the 90s, he, a teenager who probably had a crapload of socializing to do (side-eye), took my cousins and me to kids day in the park and free lunch. He combed my hair when my mother wasn't there and my grandmother's arthritis was causing her pain. Uncle Drey let me use his car to take my driver's test. When someone pushed me down and made me break my glasses during Mardi Gras 2010, he whipped out a taser and started looking around for the culprit. When I was younger, he listened to Biggie, Pac, and Heavy D so much that I learned the words to "Big Papa." Whenever I wanted seafood, gumbo, or any special type of food that I knew my parents wouldn't produce just because I wanted it, I called Uncle Drey and he cooked for me because I was his first baby. Long before Drey, Jr., and Kym made their entrances into this world, I was his baby. After I finish that long soliloquy of memories, I let inquiring minds draw their own conclusions about whether or not Uncle Drey and I were close.
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Uncle Drey, Uncle Pokey, Aunt Denise, Nita, Kiki, Tiph,
Tesha, Me. Jazzland theme park, New Orleans. Circa 2000 |
The night before I left for Spain, Unc came by to bid me farewell...and cried. He reminded me, as he had so many times over the years, that I was one of his favorite people in the world, his first baby, and how much he loved me. The next day, he was at my grandparents' house making me shrimp (because I'm that person who will whip out a home-cooked meal on the plane) when I went to see them before heading to the airport. I'm glad the last two times we saw each other were such sweet moments. I'm happy that the last few times we spoke to each other on the phone in late December were filled with laughs. Those final memories, accompanied with the 22 years of good times and randomness we shared, are what will have to sustain me through the years.
I don't mean to give a completely romanticized image of my uncle or our relationship. He was as imperfect as any other human being. I don't mean to lead anyone to believe that everything was always sunshine and joy between us. We had our ups and downs over the years, just as every family does. However, who am I, who are any of us, to judge someone just because they sin differently than us? As for our ups and downs, life is way too short (as evidenced by Uncle Drey's untimely demise) to dwell on the negative. I'd rather remember us laughing together than arguing.
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| Uncle Pokey, Uncle Drey, Grandaddy. Year unknown |
I can't believe he's gone; he had such a larger-than-life personality that it's hard to fathom not having him or it around. 34 years is such a fleeting time on this Earth. As the years go by, I'm sure that my family and I will learn to talk about him without tears welling in our eyes, that the pain won't be as acute, that the sadness in our eyes will diminish. After all, he's in a much better place. We, being the selfish mortals we are, want him here, of course. However, we also know that showering him with all the love inside of us couldn't have kept him here once God decided it was time; indeed, the love that we have for him doesn't begin to compare to that which our Father harbors for him. I hope that one day, the knowledge that we'll all meet again will bring solace to my family and me. As Christians, we know this is true, but as imperfect beings, the pain is still too fresh, the reality that we have to continue living here without him still virtually unbearable.
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| The proud papa/asst. football coach. October 2012 |
When people think of Uncle Drey, I hope they remember the good qualities he possessed and everything he was. He had a booming laugh, raspy voice, loved to sing, and was always down for a good time, to say the absolute least. He adored his kids and couldn't have been prouder to be an assistant coach on his boy's football team. He was gaga over his fiancee. Uncle Drey was loyal to a fault; he'd do anything he could for his loved ones. He loved unconditionally; indeed, he is one of the many reasons that I know what it feels like to be loved without limitations and how to reciprocate that love. These things, and so many more, should be as much a part of his legacy as his children.
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| Uncle Drey, my sister Erica, Kym. Circa 2008 |
I hope anyone who reads this chooses to hold their loved ones a little closer, to make amends with and forgive anyone whom they feel has wronged them, for tomorrow is clearly not promised. Regardless of what happened in the past, in the end, the only thing that matters is that you loved and were loved in return.
Rest in Paradise, Unc. Until we meet again. <3
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"...I have fought the good fight, I have
finished the race, I have kept the faith..."
2 Timothy 4:7 |
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