FALLING ON HARD TIMES (Repost)

This post is shared at my wife, Hazel's Blog Hop: Tell Me a Story

Return soon for my Continued Fictional Stories.

Uncle Ernest
Courtesy photobucket.com

 

Most people have fallen on hard times of one kind or another.  It could be financial, where needs can’t be met and loom larger than life.  It might be a health issue where no matter how hard you try you can’t get back to normal, or the mental stress that squeezes you to your depths so far it seems impossible for you to recover.

One of the most difficult is the loss of a relationship by whatever means it occurs; it doesn’t matter at that stage only that it is over.

At the age of five I met a man by the name of Wilson.  He ultimately became, by marriage, Uncle Wilson.  He was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy who liked people. 

 

After several years he lost his wife through a sudden tragic death and began his trek through the “valley of death,” which affected him for the rest of his life.  He was a man who never drank alcohol before that event, but it became his companion in the valley for many years.  He lost his regular employment, and had to scrape by caring for his three kids.  Only they could tell you what it was like during that period.

I ran a little business with several of the family working in it.  One day he showed up, and just started working with the rest of the employees.  I never officially hired him, I just paid him on Friday like the others.  He seemed happy just to be with the family workers, and was able to support himself. About this time his kids were grown and making their own way.

On payday he would cash his check and usually hide part of his money somewhere in his house and then go to the liquor store, and within an hour he would pass out into a deep sleep.  During which some acquaintances would search his pockets and the house for his money. They would take what they could find, and leave him with nothing. 

 

After he would come to, usually the next day, he would try to remember where he hid his money, and sometimes it would be the middle of the week before he located it. This went on week after week.  The haunting memory of his loss seem to plague him continually, hence his drinking.

After many years his daughter was able to take him in to her home, and helped him to find some sense of peace.  He was with her and her family until his demise. He loved his grand children, almost more than his kids. 

 

Anytime you met him he would start bragging on them. He has been gone for several years now, but he was and is still a part of us, and he is not forgotten.

 This post is Linked up with Michelle’s Hear it on Sunday