A Letter To My Uncle

RIL

You can say I have learned to keep quiet about the things I love the most.

Often misunderstood by others, especially those for who I would be devote.

Behind the twinkle in my eyes and the smirk of my lips, is a past that's stormy and filled with mischief.

I can be heartless with my heart and tongue once upon a time; often chastised for how often I would change my mind.

But how could I explain how I was guided by intuition?

Others didn't understand, but I was often always right.

We both saw life as a canvas to be painted with both light and dark colors that barely stayed inside the lines.

Art, after all, was subjective and this was perfect for the enigmatic mind of a lover.

We both carried with us the kind of hope of a bird who would still sing inside of a cage.

In the end, you are enough.

You will hold on to what makes you happy.

You will heal.

You will finally look back and say, you loved.

And took it all in with gratitude.

In the end, everything beautiful will find you.

I will always love you like this.

You always understood me.

I always thought I would see you again.

Death be not proud.