Something About Kenny

This morning I am thinking about my uncle Kenny.  For many, many years we didn’t see or communicate with each other at all.  It seems the only reports I heard from others were that he was either out of jail or back in jail.  Apparently he was not one to pass up on any opportunity for a good brawl.  Anyway, he suddenly popped back into my life about four years ago, while I was out and about on a Saturday morning.  He looked terrible, at least in my estimation, with his hair growing wild and his clothes unwashed and unkempt.  Yet, when called me “niece,” I found myself wrapped in his smelly embrace, wanting desperately to do something to help him.  For starters, I offered him a ride.  I wanted to get him something to eat, and I also wanted to see where he was living.  He directed me to his modest apartment in a local housing project, and there I met his live-in girlfriend.  “This here is your auntie,” he told me.  I just smiled and shook her hand, though in my head I was saying, “Oh no, she’s not!”  I invited them both to come to church with me.   She laughed and laughed and told me she didn’t have anything proper to wear to church.  To my surprise, however, Kenny said he wanted to go.  When I arrived the next morning to pick him up, he was sitting outside.  Clad in his Sunday best—a clean shirt, jeans, and sneakers—he was ready.  And so began a routine.  At some point during the week, he’d call to check in with me and confirm that he would be ready for church on Sunday.  I’d pick him up, and then I’d take him to get something to eat on the way home.

    

One morning, while on my spring break, I stopped by and told Kenny I had a surprise.  I was going to buy him a new suit to wear to church for Easter Sunday.  I remember the joy and pride on his face as the salesman showed him different suit, shirt, and tie combinations.  Finally, he decided on “the one.”  I could tell he was disappointed when he learned that alterations had to be made, so he couldn’t take the suit home right away.  But, my goodness, when I picked him up for church that Sunday, he looked like a new man.  He had even gotten himself a haircut!  And, to top it all off, his girlfriend was waiting to go to church, too.

I was disappointed, and concerned, when Kenny went missing in action again about three years ago.  My calls to his cell phone yielded a message that it was no longer in service.  When I stopped by the apartment, it had been vacated.  Then one day I received a call from a hospital.  Kenny had been taken there by ambulance, and he had given them my number as a contact person.  When I got to the hospital, he was being quite ornery, insisting that they let him go home.  He looked awful.  A substantial weight loss, on his relatively tall frame, was quite dramatic.  I stepped into the role of “Kenny whisperer,” ultimately getting him to calm down.  He told me about how he and his girlfriend had broken up and how he had moved to another place.  I’m glad I made note of the address, because he had stubbornly checked himself out of the hospital the next day.

I stopped by to check on Kenny just a few weeks ago, during my spring break.  He said he was doing okay, but I didn’t believe it.  So I stopped by again the next day.  I wanted to say, “I love you, Kenny” because I hadn’t told him the day before.  He responded with a toothless grin and nodded his head.  I can’t explain it, but as I drove away I had the sense that I would not be seeing him again.  I was saddened, though not surprised, when I got the call that he had passed away yesterday.  I am grateful that our paths crossed again, though for a short time.  I appreciate the lessons I learned about humility, kindness, and compassion.  I don’t know what his last moments were like, but I pray that somehow he remembered that he was loved.