My uncle died a year ago.
To see my father cry was surreal.
And yet I was the only one there with a dry eye.
At the time I thought I was heartless, but then I realized.
The man who died, yes he was my uncle, but he didn't care about us.
We loved him due to our blood connection, and he was my fathers little brother
Never did he ever think for a second to see us, or even talk.
I didn't know him, and at this point I don't know if I'm mad, or if I am spiralling into sadness.
Never did I get to build a bond like these people, and I don't know what to think.
He died and I didn't know him. That's what my issue is.
But that is why you live life to the fullest, no regrets, no second thoughts.
But I will always regret not knowing a man who bought my father to tears.
But I hope he is at rest, in peaceful everlasting slumber.
