Uncle Harold Died

A few weeks ago I got a text from my mother that my great-Uncle Harold had died.

I was quite surprised, seeing as the last time I saw him he seemed totally fine. I've kind of always thought he was a turd & a half, but still...dying sucks.

My mind immediately went back to the last time I saw him, which was a little over a month ago at a family reunion. We didn't speak, of course. That's par for the course for us. We spoke a little bit back in March when we were all dealing with my grandfather dying. But that isn't the norm. I'm not one to hold a grudge generally, especially if the slight wasn't directed at me, but he really screwed my dad over. Back in 1999-2000, my dad was the music minister at the church he grew up in (still attended by my grandparents & other assorted relatives). But Uncle Harold had my father, who was his nephew, removed from the position. I'm not sure of the reason, other than he was trying to get control of the church. And guess what: he ran that church right into the ground. It's now one of those black churches with four different names in the title like Father of Grace Deliverance Tabernacle or some shit.

Ahem. As I was saying, I don't generally hold a grudge but that really pissed me off. You just don't do that to family. At least not to close family. But after that whenever I'm around him I keep my distance. But unfortunately at the last family reunion in June I couldn't avoid him due to the circumstances. I had taken a leak & as I was exiting the stall, Uncle Harold was coming in. We didn't speak. I saw him sit down on the toilet. I washed my hands super quickly & ran out of the bathroom. And that was the last memory I would ever have of my beloved Uncle Harold.

That is until my mom texted me back & told me it was actually my great-Uncle Harold on her side of the family. False alarm!