While I Was Gone

He traveled to Gandhi's ashram in India so that he could learn about satyagraha, wondering if he could use it to instigate equality for blacks in the U.S. It was 1949 - a year after Gandhi's death.

I never did find out many of the details of Uncle Ralph's experiences in India. I do know that he shot and killed a tiger while there. My family used to have a couple of tiger teeth we would show our friends - maybe those teeth are still in some box in my parents' basement. I know there is still a photo of the tiger's hide in some photo album, and I studied the somewhat decaying orange striped feline remnants fifty years later when I visited my uncle on what I perceived as a quest to learn more about the Gandhi that I loved and the family from which I descended.

While I was traveling in Michigan this past week, Uncle Ralph died. My mom told me during one of our "how is life going with the broken shoulder?" conversations. The news slipped right through my brain and it wasn't until the next day that I realized it and mentioned it to my friend. With the intensity of my travels, and the immediate overwhelm of coming home to the situation with my parents, I have not had the time to let the fact sink in that the uncle I knew best, but didn't know at all, is now gone.

This morning, I pulled out the thick file of Uncle Ralph letters.

I initiated contact with him in the late '90s with two intentions - one stated and the other kept to myself. 1) I wanted to learn, as close to first-hand as possible, about the Gandhi I loved. Even though Gandhi died before he got there, Uncle Ralph had been closer to the man than anyone I had ever known. 2) I wanted to learn about my heritage from someone with a voice different than that of my parents'. There is no truth to these things, only different perspectives.

Looking through my uncle's letters, I remember that I got very little of what I was looking for; instead, I received a lot of thoughts and advice about writing. You see, my uncle was eternally working on his big novel - the novel that was never finished.

In 1999, I even flew to Ohio to visit Uncle Ralph. I spent five days with him and learned many things, just not what I had intended.

I've grown in the past eleven years and I plan to re-read the letters in this file. I realize now that I wanted something that didn't exist. Uncle Ralph gave me what he had. How precious is that???

We can spend our lives looking for what we think should be, but then we end up completely missing the reality that is staring us right in the face.

Farewell, dear Ralph. Thank you for all that you gave your niece who has now finally let go of her agendas.

I hope I remember this lesson so that I can be more present to others in my life.