We are multitudes
Forgive others for who they think they are,
And love others for who they really are.
This thought came to me as I reflected on the recent death of my uncle, a complicated man who was not just family but a mentor to me.
He is my mother's brother. She also passed away not long ago.
My uncle had no children of his own, and from a young age, he took a special interest in me. He was different from many of the adults I knew when I was young— fuelled by a relentless lust for living, he laughed easily. He invited you warmly into his courageous mission to experience everything the world had to offer. He never let his past stop him from thinking big.
I remember moments where he was unbound, bold and brave. He inspired me.
He loved sailing. Cutting through the salty water in Miami, a warm breeze on our worn faces, we escaped time. Smiling dolphins leaping free of the water, greeting us midair —a spectacular moment that reminds us we are not alone in the world.
So many years later, he is gone, and I will miss his dolphin smile.
As I matured, I slowly witnessed a complicated and fiercely private man with deeper parts of him that you could not get close to. There was a shroud of silence and secrecy.
I could not break through.
His obituary was a long list of professional accomplishments. It didn't get to the heart of the man. It didn't reflect his spirit. We are more than our work accomplishments.
As I got older and busier with my career and family, our relationship began to dim. I saw him less frequently. And soon enough, we didn't see each other at all.
I'm still searching for a word to describe how a relationship can be both joy and grief at once.
We are multitudes.
Forgive others for who they think they are,
And love others for who they really are.
But before you can do this for others,
You must forgive and love yourself.
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