I miss my uncle. I don't know if that's right, because I never even met him. He died. Like 10 years before I was born or something. A motorcycle. A fucking motorcycle.
I heard that he was an amazing guy. That I have his eyes. That he would have lived right near us. That he was great at rugby. That he was smart. Kind. I think my mom lost part of her heart when he died. If my sister died, I would commit suicide. Honestly. I would jump in front of a bus for her without even thinking.
Today isn't his birthday. It's not the anniversary of his death. It's just me. Thinking about my uncle Peter.
I miss you.
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