Give them the best of you, not the rest of you.

E59: May you be loved unconditionally.

I lost my favourite uncle this past Sunday. It is still raw.
But I am forever grateful that he taught me some very valuable life lessons.
How to make time, and always be present for those that matter the most to us.

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As he breathed his last breath, each hand was cradled between those of people he loved - and who loved him back dearly.

My dear uncle passed away on Sunday. In his final hours, through the miracle of Whatsapp video calling, I was able to join from afar as he weakly sang his favourite hymns, and enjoyed a sip of whisky. He lifted his hands to give me his blessing "for when I am not here". 

I focused on his hands.
Hands that for years had been greasy, with black engine oil under the nails. He would scrub hard before he came to the table. He worked early morning to night as a car mechanic. He was everyone’s go-to person with car issues.

Born in East Africa in the 1920s, he grew up in tandem with the automotive industry. He went from working on cars with cranks to servicing BMWs managed by electronics. He’d shake his head in wonder in conversations with my husband. They’d ponder how cars carried fewer and fewer pistons and shafts, and mechanics were shifting from brawn to brain to fix them.

I noticed his ring finger.
He’d been pulled at a checkpoint helping a friend’s wife make a last-minute flight departing Uganda in the frantic last days of the exodus in 1972. Idi Amin’s militia frisked everyone for anything they were taking out of the country. And when my uncle would not give up his wedding ring, they broke his finger pulling it off. It never healed back straight. 

I looked at his fingers.
He’d dragged himself out of his home hospital bed this past summer to join us for some sun in the garden. “Bring my guitar,” he said. And once again, his left fingers found the chords, his right hand strumming in time, his memory surfaced the words that we sing together time and time again.
"Jambo, jambo, bwana” reminding us of picnics on the equator;
crooning “You by my side that’s how I see us“ - their “Wedding Song” - which they performed at so many of our weddings;
“You are my sunshine” sing-a-longs all crammed in the car driving to the coast on a rare sunny day in the UK; 
“Unforgettable, that’s what you are … Unforgettable, though near or far …” at family parties when we’d return to London, gathered around tables groaning with the weight of food. 

He was also my go-to person. No matter how busy, he always made time for us. For me. He was my Uncle Fix-It. His deft fingers would repair my tricycle and all my toys. His strong arms would hoist me on his shoulders for hours of giddy joy, or give me a piggyback when my pudgy little legs could not keep up with the adults.

When I was older, he taught me how to drive a stick shift. He tutored me to listen - patiently - for the moment the gears ask to shift, to ease the shaft so as not to hurt the underlying machinery. 

He took his time with his loved ones. He never hurried. From the moment I was born, he loved me - unconditionally. And without expectation. He let me know that all he ever wanted was for me to find my own happiness. No judgment. I hope each of you has someone like this in your life. It is the biggest safety net of love and confidence you will ever experience. I hope I’m paying forward that legacy of non-judgmental, unconditional support. His legacy.

Give them the best of you, not the rest of you. 

My Uncle Fix-It taught me the value of giving the people you cherish your full attention. His actions spoke louder than any flowery words of advice. He carved out time in his day for what was really important: Faith and Family.  

A quiet and humble man, my uncle left a large love+care footprint on this earth. And he leaves a gaping hole in my heart. On his last day, I am glad that my uncle was surrounded by the people he had made time for while he lived his bold life. And that the hands that held his were those of the people he loved.

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You have probably heard the story of the professor who steadily filled a jar to show his students that if they did not pay attention trivia (sand) would quickly fill their day, leaving no space for the more valuable components of their lives (big marbles).

Nir Eyal offers a time-boxing template with a great story (see the section Turn Your Values into Time) explaining how to plan and allocate your week so you intentionally give attention and focus to yourself and those dearest to you.

In a world of apps and notifications and tasks and trivia, carving out time to focus on the things that really matter - people or projects - is a 21st-century skill.

Give them the best of you, not what’s left of you.

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I’d like to welcome the many new members who are joining our Tribe Tilt. I am excited. Among them are a Canadian podcaster (ATEOD), producer of The Knowledge Society newsletter (TKS.world), and Randy chasing answers on climate.

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I’d also like to thank the many Write of Passage writers who helped me develop this essay with thoughtful questions and suggestions: storyteller & comic creator Dekera G Rodriguez, writer Andrew Plainview, CIO and leadership coach Amit Ghosh, and environmental consultant Adrian Bukamis.

Stay healthy. From there all else becomes possible.
Karena