Why is it Always the Weird Uncle?

“Hello, Cam.”

“Hey.” Cam was never a big greeter.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fucked-up, kind of disjointed.” Made sense considering the circumstances.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No, does it have something to do with the accident I was in?” Confused, Cam was trying to remember the accident and deal with where he was. “Where are you? I think I should be able to see but I can’t see anything but white.”

“No, you can’t see because you wouldn’t recognize or understand anything that is here. Imagine a cross between a hospital waiting room and a bus stop with lots of graffiti; very institutional, basic but beautiful, and doesn’t make much sense. You are halfway between what happened and what’s next.”

“So, live or die, right?”

“Yep.” I always knew he was a quick one.

“So, why are you here?”

“You wanted someone to come and I was the closest person to you that you would recognize that knew the way here.”

“Why do you know so much about this?”

“Because I am here quite often talking to people.”

“Why?” 

“Because of some of the choices I made and make brings me back..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His question wasn’t angry or pointed, just curious. “Are you living or dying all the time or something?”

“Something like that.” I gave him that much but my role in this couldn’t be allowed to control the conversation. “You know I have never been one to do what was expected.”

“So, being here is your sentence for screwing up?” Good question, Cam, wish I knew.

“I don’t look at it like that.” It was true, I didn’t look at it like that. In fact, I hadn’t looked at it like anything, I just considered it something I did with no thought to reason.

“So, are you dead or alive?”

“I am where I am supposed to be. I am here to talk with you about what you want next.”

“What I want next is to know what is going on.” There was an edge of frustration in that.

“Like I said, this is where it is decided which way you go, dead or alive.”

“Who decides that? When will it happen?”

“It already has been. You go back.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Oh?”

“I kind of like it here. It’s comfortable and easy.”

“You can’t stay here Cam. Either way, you leave this place.”

“Do you know what happens if I die?”

“Yes, I do. I can’t tell you though. If I try it will just come out as babble that you won’t understand. They have it fixed that way so you won’t know.”

“Why don’t they want people to know?”

“They don’t want the decision faced here to be affected by knowledge of what’s next. They want the decision made based on what is known.”

“Well, I know I’m okay here. I don’t know what I am back there. I must be in pretty bad shape to be here. How bad was the wreck? Why can’t I feel any pain?”

“No pain here, that is waiting for you back there. It was very bad. You are facing a long recovery. There were people killed as well. You will have to process that. It doesn’t seem to matter why it happened or how, living through something others didn’t is hard to deal with.”

“Doesn’t sound like going back is an option then. I want to stay here.”

“You can’t.”

“Who exactly are ‘they’? Who made my decision for me?” Cam’s frustration was back.

“Mostly you. Your stream of consciousness allowed you to choose without you being aware.” I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to explain that line. It was a bitch. “The ‘they’ I refer to only decide if your decision is possible or practical.”

“What?”

“Deep down you want to live and your body is salvageable enough to justify you surviving the accident.” I hope that cuts it with him. “The decision has been made. You go back.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you will have to fight to die.”

“Okay. Who am I fighting?” Never was one to back down.

“Why don’t you want to go back?”

“Because I’m not pissed off here. Back there I just keep making everyone mad. It’s so frustrating. If I die now, I won’t bother anyone anymore and no one will bother me.”

“So, you think if you die you will be doing everyone a favour?”

“Of course. They wouldn’t have to be pissed off with me all the time. And I wouldn’t have to put up with all the crap I keep getting handed. It drives me crazy.”

“What about all the people that want you to live through this Cam? Why are they all so worried and concerned that you might die? Do you think they will be glad when you only live in their memories until they die?”

“If this is the last time they have to get mad at my screw-ups they will be better off with whatever memories they have. Besides, they might not even want the memories. Most of them will be bad, like this one.”

“What are your memories of all those people like Cam? Are they all bad?”

“I can remember all my screw-ups, that’s for sure. I can remember how they affected them. I guess I have some good ones. I must have had fun somewhere along the line that didn’t end up like this.”

“Do you think it’s possible that if you went back, you might make some good memories for yourself and others that push some of the bad ones out?”

“It’s possible, but it won’t happen. I have a track record of screwing up. It will be like ripping a Band-Aid off. A little pain now but soon everything will be forgotten.”

“You know that won’t be the way it goes down. Nobody who knew you will be able to forget you. Whatever you think their memories of you are, you stand out in everybody’s mind.”

“Do I stand out in yours?”

“From the day you were born. You had the devil shining out of all corners. I knew you would be fun to know and you did not disappoint. Just your smile whenever we met lifted me.”

“You were always different though. You didn’t care what I did. It didn’t bother you,” Cam said, unsurprised by my answer.

“Why would it?” I replied

“I couldn’t embarrass you. I couldn’t make you worry. Everyone else would worry and curse me the next time they saw me. You would act like nothing happened and just smile and say hello.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s because it was just you being you. I like you. You were the most worried. You know that, right? You don’t just worry when you screw up, you worry all the time.” I only said it to test his reasoning with his desire to be dead.

“I didn’t have anything to worry about. I have always done whatever I wanted to. I usually did the exact thing no one wanted me to do. That’s why they hate me so much. They’re worried about what I might do next.”

“I think you were frustrated and mad because they didn’t want you to do what you wanted to do and you kept doing it without ever telling them why you were doing it. You were scared to tell them what you wanted.”

“So, I should go back and just go on being scared, frustrated, and mad because they want me to stay alive so they can satisfy their curiosity about how I will turn out? That doesn’t sound fair to me.”

“Have you ever told them how you feel? Have you given them a chance to try to make it better for you?”

“Yeah, right. I will just go up to my parents and say, “Mom and Dad, I am angry and frustrated because you want me to be this way or that.” That would go over real big.” Cam’s frustration with me and this whole going back to living thing was growing fast. “You remember my dad? 

“Are you sure it’s your parents that are the cause of all this?”

“What do you mean? Who else would be behind it? They are the only ones I come remotely close to listening to, ever. Who else would it be?”

“It seems like you are angry and frustrated at everything in your life that you believe is trying to control you. Your parents and everyone else do want what is going to make your life the best Cam, they just may not realize what that would be. You are the only one that knows that.”  

“I know my parents want me to have what’s best and that they don’t know what that is. I don’t think I know what it is either.” An admission to not having the answer was a good sign.

“So, all the fighting and partying. What’s that all about?”

“I get to unload. I can hang around people when I am stoned or drunk without worrying about who I am with or how many people there are worried about me being there. It’s easier that way. The fighting always happens when I am too angry to control it. I go off on the first idiot that asks for it. I would be way better off if I could just live in the sticks and come out to visit once in a while. Or maybe come out to work when I needed money for stuff.”

“Then why don’t you do that?”

“Because it isn’t normal. It isn’t the way it’s done. It would just be another disappointment for the family. It would just be another case of, Cam, the crazy one, will never grow up, he will drive us crazy until we go crazy. Just another reason to go on ahead and get dead.”

“I don’t think so. I think you have a responsibility to show them you can be happy doing what you want to do the way you want to do it. You have to find a way to figure out what it is that makes you happy without the drugs and booze and do it. You owe it to them and to yourself.”

“Sounds like a lot of work that probably won’t happen and what about the accident?”

“What about it?”

“What will happen to me because of it? Will I be the same as I was?”

“No, you will not. But then, you are never the same from one day to the next anyway. You learn with everything you experience. The accident will be hard on you. It will bring you down a long way. You will have to fight through your recovery until you heal.”

“More work.”

“Yes, more work. And more anguish. It will torture your mind more than any of the anger and frustration you fight with now. It won’t be easy.”

“And you are supposed to be selling me on going back? You aren’t doing a very good job.”

“I am not trying to sell you on going back, Cam. I am talking with you about why you are going back and trying to help you figure out what to do when you get there.”

“Well Uncle, I don’t really think I want to go back. I am pretty sure I want to be dead. I will go back because you say I have to but I know how to kill myself, I know I don’t have to stay. There won’t be a next time we talk like this here; I will make sure it is an express ticket.”

“That will always be your choice. You are the only one who can take that away from you.”

“You aren’t going to try to talk me out of suicide but you won’t let me carry on with being dead? What kind of bullshit is that?”

“I am not keeping you from being dead and I would never deny anyone their right to choose to commit suicide. I would only hope they would talk to me or someone first. If for no other reason, then to say goodbye.”

“You’re a weird old bugger, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. It has a lot to do with why I am here.”