Uncle Bartholomew, my true friend as his name means, has been gone a year and I have finally brought myself to pack up his belongings. Barth and I were friends, confidantes, and lovers. I know some think an uncle and a niece could not be lovers but Barth was my mother's stepbrother and there was no real blood relation, so we never thought our love was taboo. The moments we shared together were too sweet and innocent to be wrong. Everything felt so right when Uncle Barth held me in his arms; the rest of the world seemed to fade away and there was nothing but the two of us floating together, intertwined in each others' arms.
While packing his clothes and belongings up for Goodwill, I spilled his pouch of tobacco in the palm of my hand. The memories flowed back to me. The love we had for each other and everything we had shared. His face seemed to appear before me; the deep cleft in his chin seeming so real that I almost reached forward to touch it. His eyes peered into mine. I noticed the gentle tug at the corner of his mouth as if making fun at my expense once again. I closed my eyes and squeezed them tightly together, trying to banish the vision from my head. For I knew that it was only a vision, that's all it would ever be.
Standing there with my eyes closed, I looked back over my life and remembered all that had taken place. I had known Barth was special to me; that he would always have a place in my heart because we were soul mates. I knew this when I sat at his feet listening to him read to me, while I was growing up. I sat for hours on end, admiring him and taking in the smell of his pipe tobacco. He seemed to smoke continuously while reading to me.
I allowed the emotions to sweep over me and I just sat down on the bed and experienced all the touching and loving and feelings again.
Uncle Barth was 15 years my senior and practically raised me, since my mother was too busy working or off dating. She never really had time to spend with me, "Making a better life for her little girl" was what she would tell me. But I knew better. Different men were always coming to our house to pick her up; she would laugh loudly and show special attention to me while they were there. Then close the door in my face as I watched them walk down the walkway to his car. I would hear her return sometimes very late, trying to hush the noises of the male visitors, thinking I was asleep.
Sometimes, I would even sneak out and watch my mother with the men, as the curiosity of the noises would get to me. I would later question Barth concerning the things I had witnessed between my mother and these men. And he very patiently and lovingly would explain to me the facts of life, sometimes just showing me some of the special touches and kisses that happen between a man and a woman.
He taught me how to care about someone and to love someone. He taught me by example; by him taking care of me when I was sick or hurt or just feeling lonely and needed a friend. He explained things to me as they happened in the different stages of my growing up. And from all these things, I knew he was my soulmate, my true love and would be for all my life. He was actually the one with whom I had my first sensual lovemaking encounter, albeit I was far from being a virgin.
When I had turned 18 and decided I wanted to pursue a career and go to college, Barth supported me, even though it meant leaving town to go to college. I wrote him every week and called him when I could because I missed him tremendously.
I met some guys in college but none of them could take the place of Uncle Barth. He even encouraged me to date some guys my own age as well when I would tell him about the people and my classes. But even with his encouragement, I found myself not able to get seriously involved with any of my peers as they did not seem to have the maturity Barth did. A few dates actually were repeat dates and we had good times, sharing our common interests of college classes or homework or campus life. I even took a few dates further than just a good time and gave in to the sexual ways, the peer pressure thing that everyone was doing it. They were not really pleasurable experiences as my mind would always wonder what Uncle Barth was doing at the time or how he would do something to me because he really cared for me and loved me.
I would often share these few experiences with Barth and could just feel his body sink upon me telling him about my encounters with the boys at college. This would make me sad to know I was hurting my best friend by doing this.