My favorite Uncle

When my mom suggested that I write a blog about my Uncle Bennie a couple weeks ago, I immediately began to jot down some of my thoughts but couldn't decide where or how to start. I quickly realized, as the tears began to well up in my eyes, that writing a blog about the sudden death of my favorite uncle wasn't something that would be happening so soon, or while I was PMS-ing. Life in general has been extremely chaotic this past month and I feel relief that October has begun, which will hopefully mark the beginning of less stress and happier days.

My phone had three missed calls the morning of September 7th, when I finally woke up and realized something was wrong. While my mother could be pushy and call twice if she really needed something, a third time was not usual, especially at 7 am. I immediately phoned back and in a low and cracking voice my mother told me that my Uncle Bennie, age 42, had been hit and killed while riding his motorcycle home the night before. I didn't know what to say or how to react. For one of the first times in my life, I was speechless.

My heart began to break.

It broke for my Aunt Michelle, who lost her loving husband of almost 11 years.
For my cousins, Michael- age 6 - and Nathan- age 3. What would they remember of their father? How can children at such a young age even comprehend losing someone who they loved and adored?
For my grandmother, who lost her youngest child at such a young age.
For my father, who spent countless days, nights and weekends "cruising" with my Uncle, his brother, and probably best friend.
For his two other brothers and two sisters, who lost their youngest sibling.
For his co-workers, who looked forward to coming to work just to see what prank Bennie would pull next.

I sat on the edge of my bed crying. I wasn't crying for me, I was crying for him. For all the things he would miss out on. His wedding anniversaries, cowboy camp with his sons, the Steinhauser family ornament exchange at Christmas, his son's first Holy Communion, my wedding.

On Thursday morning I flew back to Detroit. It was the first time in the three years that I had lived in NJ that I was flying back for a funeral. Unfortunately, I realized, that this will likely not be the first time, but that still didn't help.

The visitation was all day on Wednesday, from 1-8 p.m. and my father was eager to get there on time. After awhile I was surrounded by my entire family and it really helped. We were all going through the same thing, and all of us, in our own way, were mourning the loss of someone we loved. Together, we talked about my Uncle and shared our memories. Of course, many tears were shed, but after the tears, laughter. We all had stories of something funny that Bennie did, a prank he pulled, a "loving" nickname (mine was hickey lips) or another hilarious memory. As people poured into the funeral home (we had more than 200 people at the funeral service alone), more stories and memories were shared.

A week after the funeral, I was again in Michigan. This trip, however, was planned. My grandmother joined us for dinner on Sunday evening and our conversation began and ended with my Uncle. I've heard that when people die, often times their family members will avoid talking about the person who died because they worry that it may make other family members sad or upset. I don't think that this would even be an option in our family. We all have so many wonderful memories. I would much rather prefer to talk about my Uncle and cherish and remember the person he was. In this way, he will live on forever.
My Uncle was a hard worker, a great father, a loving husband, a devoted son, a great brother and, above all, a friend. He will be greatly missed by all those who were fortunate enough to have known him and he will never be forgotten.


Uncle Bennie sitting on Adam's lap- Feb. 07'

“Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows."