Growing up I always had lots of friends. As an athlete, I was always on a field or in an arena somewhere. With each season came a different sport, a different team, and different teammates. One thing that was constant every game though, was that old man sitting on the sidelines, wearing his Giants Super Bowl Champions hat.
My uncle Bruce was always there, whether it was scorching hot, down pouring rain, or an arena so cold you couldn’t feel your toes; he was there. He was my best friend, and from the time I was 7 years old, I would see him almost every week. My first love has always been football and I like to think it’s because of my uncle. For as long as I can remember, we would spend our falls watching Eli Manning and the Giants together at his home.
Growing up, my uncle Bruce taught me so much. My father left home when I was quite young and it affected me. My uncle stepped up, and filled that void to help teach me right from wrong, and shape me into the man I am today. If it wasn’t for my uncle Bruce, I may have never learned how to make an engine turn over, throw a curveball, or play guitar. While other kids idolized athletes and musicians, my uncle Bruce was my hero, and still is today.
Eventually, though, everyone’s time comes to an end, and we lose people. Unfortunately for me, that time came in late August of 2015. At the age of 56, my uncle Bruce went to bed one night but didn’t wake up the next morning, he went peacefully in his sleep. I like to think that he had a big smile on his face because the Yankees had won in extra innings that night.
This was the hardest news I’ve ever had to receive. I had recently returned home after
In the time since this has happened, I’ve moved forward but it hasn’t been easy. While it seemed like others had moved on soon after the funeral, it took me quite some time. The first and most difficult part was accepting the reality of the loss. In the weeks after his funeral, I constantly found myself thinking I could make plans only to realize what had become so habitual was no longer possible. After a while, you begin to learn how to move forward and that while the situation is not ideal, the world does not stop turning, and you cannot sit around and do nothing. It’s unfortunate but it’s something you cannot change. Once I accepted this harsh reality, I was able to move forward.
The second stage of my grief was learning to process it. Everyone has their own way of coping with loss. For me, I found solace in driving my Uncle Bruce’s truck. As a part of his estate, I received his prized Chevy Silverado. A loyal man, he always drove a black Chevy, something he was extremely proud of. To me, when I would get upset thinking about him, I found comfort in just driving the truck and listening to Giants games on the radio. Driving his truck and listening to his team gives me the feeling of still spending time with him; now it’s just in a different way.
Once I had learned how to process the grief, I was able to adjust to a life without my uncle Bruce. While he may be gone now, I still have my ways to spend time with him. Instead of going to his house to watch a game with him, I now look forward to driving or working on the Chevy while listening to the radio.
The final part of how I learned to recover from the grief occurred this past summer. Something my uncle Bruce had always dreamed of was visiting MetLife Stadium. Since the stadium opened in 2010, he had dreamed of going but unfortunately never did. I was able to honor that dream this past summer when I got to attend a Giants preseason game on the anniversary of his passing. By doing so, I felt a connection with him that I never had before. I believe this was because what had long been his dream had also been one of mine. Although we weren’t able to be there together, I made sure I wore his prized Michael Strahan jersey so that a part of him was.