Good

My husband’s dearly loved uncle passed away last month.  Yesterday the family gathered to celebrate his life and mourn his passing.  Uncle Byron died at the age of 82 leaving behind a beloved wife, three devoted children and seven incredible grandchildren, not to mention the rest of us, siblings, nieces and nephews, cousins and dear friends. 

Uncle Byron was one of a kind.  I heard tales of Byron before I’d ever actually met him.  My friend Casey babysat for Byron and Carol’s next door neighbors in high school.  She described the older man that lived next door as “hilarious and also inappropriate,” which could have been his tagline: Byron Powell: hilarious and inappropriate since 1934.  Years later I would end up marrying his nephew and would have the privilege of calling him Uncle Byron.  My kids called him Papa Byron.  

He was warm and funny, welcoming and kind.  He worked hard and served his church and community.  He was loved by everyone who knew him.  And he was playful, goodness he was playful.  Byron had a giggle that was infectious and he was the kind of adult that never lost his childlike heart.  He played games and poked fun but always with love; if he teased you it made you feel like you were in, one of his favorites, loved.

When we moved to Wheaton, the town where Tommy and I grew up and Uncle Byron still lived, I loved running into him more frequently, seeing him multiple times a week at the Sports Center, the gym we both belonged to.  Sometimes, if I was lucky, I’d catch him on the track and we’d walk a few laps together, catching up on life and whatnot.  He was dear to me and I had a special soft spot in my heart for Uncle Byron. 

So many lovely things were said at his service but a common theme surrounded his very goodness.  His son Dave spoke about that word, “good” and it’s underratedness.  In today’s age of overselling and exaggeration the word good often goes unappreciated.  But that was exactly what his dad was, good, and the life he built the same.  I couldn’t have agreed more.  Uncle Byron was good, a good man, a good husband, a good father, good brother and uncle.  

For me, that word good reveals so much meaning behind those four letters.  Good has depth and richness.  To be good is to be honest and trustworthy, sturdy and true.  Good makes selfless decisions and loves long and well.  Goodness goes down to one’s core.  It is not a quality that comes and goes depending on the situation; those whom we call good live it deeply and in all circumstances. 

Uncle Byron was good.  My dad was good.  I hope I am writing a life with that kind of goodness.

When a good man like Uncle Byron dies I am reminded again of my deep appreciation for those people who live their lives the way Uncle Byron did.  He was kind to those around him.  He gave the best parts of himself to his family and friends.  He drank deeply from the well of joy and enjoyed the hell out of life.  He left a legacy of love and connectedness.  When the world tells us that prominence and success, prestige and money are the things that matter, I only have to look at a life like Uncle Byron’s to know that it’s a lie.  Goodness, love, family, connection.  These are the things that matter.  

Uncle Byron helped to build something beautiful in his lifetime and last night, as all the kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and nephews gathered, I witnessed it in all its glory.  Uncle Byron was good and he built a life that reflected that goodness.  And we are so lucky to have been a part of it.

Well done Uncle Byron.  You will be missed.