I used to believe you when you told me that you were really Bing Crosby and I think, a part of me, the same part that believes in Father Christmas, fairies and magic still believes that you and Bing were the same person. Every year, without fail, White Christmas and snow heralds that Christmas is upon us and I smile inside and think of you, wriggling your ears and singing. You both looked so alike that you could have made your living as his double; I wonder why others laugh when I compare you to Bing? Can they not see the resemblance?

Every family gathering we would seek each other out and sit and laugh together remembering old times. The way you taught me as a child to dance the Waltz and Barn Dance by standing on your shoes, how you introduced me to all your tropical fish individually and in later years how you cried when you told me about your childhood and the mistakes you had made in your adult life. What is it about me that others feel a need to confess, to tell me all, to bare their soul before me? I can only listen and keep the confidence.

You have been a part of my life ever since I can remember, our families would share holidays and spend Christmas together and yet we rarely met in the past decade or so, funerals more than anything drawing us together again. You were my father’s friend and together when young and single you both partied around town when home on leave. Later, you married his sister and was best man when he married my mother. After my parents died and sometimes when they were still alive I delighted in your tales of them as young people and you were one of the last links I have to my parents, a link who could make them come alive again for me.

I wonder what led to our special bond? I always knew you were a rake ever since I was a little girl, the dapper way you dressed, the twinkle in your eyes and your laugh, what a laugh! Did my love of eccentrics start with you or is it something inherent? Sometimes this time of year, when I was in my 30s and you were in your late 60s, I would call into the pub to see you. I always knew which pub to find you in and I knew you would be sitting in your special seat by the fire, everyone knew it was your seat and if you were not in when they arrived you would be later. Your eyes would light up when you saw me and we would sit together chatting and you would not let on who I was to the others. “Let them wonder!” you would say laughing and they did!

The juke box would blaze out the songs that we selected, you would dedicate Pretty Woman to me and Walking My Baby Back Home would be for Auntie B. Tears would roll down your cheeks as you told me how you had loved her, how much you missed her and regretted that you had never been a good husband. I do not suppose you were husband material but I can vouch that you made the best uncle a girl ever had.

When the telephone rang this morning I knew before my son answered it, before he descended the stairs to tell me, before he held me in his arms and said the words. I shall always remember your laughter and that mischievous twinkle in your eyes. I do not possess one bad memory and I never heard one harsh word from your lips. I was lucky Uncle Frank, I was someone who you always made feel very special and I never experienced the other side of you, the side that others sometimes knew. When you add it all up we never really spent all that much time together and yet I know that I will miss you dearly. In my heart I shall always believe that you were Bing and when I hear White Christmas I shall know that you are singing it for me.

Labels: Loss Bing Uncle Life

Posted by Miladysa at 6:18 PM 22 Comments