Of all my uncles, I always felt a certain sadness for Uncle Martin. He was the one that called everyone: checking up on them with no judgment and eagerness to share with them, but not often did anyone call him back. In fact, it would be my mother´s biggest regret that 3 days before having a massive heart attack he had left her message asking how she was and how they should meet. Part of my sadness at his loss was because I feared my own value and behavior matched his… I’m the one that reaches out, I’m the one that makes the plans, and yet I’m the one whose alone. 

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