I have an Uncle David. He passed away a few months ago after a long battle with cancer.
He was my favorite uncle. Every Thanksgiving during my wee childhood years he and my Aunt would come up. They would take us kids to the mall where David would pick me up and dangle me above the trash cans by my ankles. One year they packed up my new baby brother in their suitcase and pretended they were going to take him home with them. My brother William just about blew a gasket.
When we were living in Maine, Matt and I would occasionally pack up the kids and make the nine hour drive to visit them.
I miss him.
My youngest brother is also named David. I haven’t seen him in ten years. He and my dad came up for David’s memorial service. While Lucy and Emma are old enough to remember Uncle David the elder, they were quite delighted to meet Uncle David the younger.
I think that every child should have an Uncle David. My brother is pale, has long blond hair, a red beard and lacks the distinctive “Uncle David” Australian accent, but I think he will live up to his namesake well.
Within minutes of arriving, my girls were happily braiding his hair. He wrestled with the boys and tickled the girls. On the last day that he and my dad were here, he took Spencer out and taught him how to ride his skateboard.
He would hold Spencer’s hand and pull him around.
Showed them a few tricks
All of the kids joined in with the fun