When I was 12, Kelly, my mom and I went to the Sony Ericsson with my Uncle Charlie (on the right in the picture above). Uncle Charlie was my Papa’s (left in above picture) older brother, and at the time he was 76 and LOVED to talk. He talked during every match that we watched on center court, and when it rained, we went off site to a bagel shop in Key Biscayne. When we were finished eating, he gave me a hug and kissed the top of my head, and said what a great time he was having. One minute later I found out there was a big glob of cream cheese that had made it from his mouth onto the top of my head. It’s my first memory of him even though I’m sure that I had met him before, and I tried to steer clear of him during meal times after that.

When I moved to Orlando to go to UCF, my Papa sat me down in his office and told me how excited Uncle Charlie was that I would be there also. He gave me Uncle Charlie’s number and told me to call him. I waited a few weeks and we met at a Perkins on Semoran and University. I was so glad to see someone I knew in a strange city, and he reminded of my Papa. He had the same Southern accent and was the only other person I knew who said “Miamah.” Over the course of my four years at school we met up occasionally, and when I graduated he was the only one of my Orlando family members who spent part of my first Christmas away from home with me. I heard old family stories, the truth about how his oldest brother died (we were told that it was a car accident, but it was the mafia…not kidding!), the mineral rights we owned on the coast of northwest Florida, and what life in Groveland was like back in the 1930’s. He tried to give me marriage and kid advice (don’t have your kids four years apart or they won’t know each other), and taught me that common interests are important.

When Papa died in 2005, we were both devastated. He couldn’t believe that his healthy younger brother died of cancer, and I couldn’t believe that my grandfather had died before I got engaged to Pete. Uncle Charlie really felt like he should stand in for Papa, and even though he wasn’t a replacement, he was a great substitute. He gave great hugs just like my Papa, called me his girl, and always told me he loved me and how glad he was to see me. There was something about him and Papa where you just knew you were part of a family that loved each other, and it’s something I hope that my own kids feel someday when they are around me and my parents.

Uncle Charlie passed away last Tuesday night of a heart attack at the age of 92. We had just seen him for my birthday at Pei Wei a few weeks earlier, and we made plans for him to come over for dinner at the end of April. I’m so sad that that never happened, and that I won’t get a signature Arnold hug until we meet again.