the void

This was one train of thought I had about Uncle Shelby. Its the selfish part of what I'll miss. There's more, like his example of strength to live on without both parents or any of his brothers, his love for aunt clare that represented struggle and perseverence followed by a depth you don't see these days. He was so calm in his strength, but fierce with his passion for each of us to reach our potential, no excuses no matter the hardship.

The "25 random things" about yourself on Facebook was an internet phenomen they say. When you really look at those types of things, it makes sense. We all want to be heard, to be thought of as unique or special. Therefore, the opportunity to share a whopping 25 of those unique-ities about oneself fills a very present void. The void can also be filled by faith – in a God that constantly affirms our identity as a specifically created being.

Sometimes that little (or gaping) place in my heart has been filled by my parents, grandparents, aunts or uncles that have seen my soul form since I was little and exclaim at the smallest of feats. The moment my mom brought me a Gatorade to my little league game, even though I didn’t play enough to sweat, I felt like a star. I remember sitting on my front porch of “the yellow house” while my dad rolled a joint (yes, didn’t know it back then, but now I know why pot smells like home) and we talked about life. He made me feel special as we sat in silence while fishing or he taught me a new bball move. My uncle Shelby, oldest Miller brother, stepped in when his baby brother, my dad, passed away. He would call and ask about our report cards, check on our bball skills, come watch games, scream louder than anyone else when each of us walked across the stage at graduation. I remember when I was really little and he taught all us Miller girls a song “I’m a pretty little girl, with a pretty little figure so stay away boys till I get a little bigger.” He made us sing it every time we came to visit. He reminded me that I was unique, worth great things and destined for more than mediocrity. He has been a voice in my head when I question whether I should challenge myself in my education, career, athletics or love. I picture him telling me how proud he is of me and asking the tough questions that kept me accountable. And I knew that if he didn’t, my Aunt Clare would fill right in.

My Uncle Shelby passed away last night. My little heart is sad. It is the ending of the Miller era, he being the oldest and last surviving Miller brother. In many ways its like my dad’s death all over again, but this time as an adult. His legacy will help fill this void.