For the Man Who Could Have Guided Me

Would you have cared for me as a parent?

Image from author’s family album.

My uncle was thirteen years older than my father
The firstborn Spring of my beloved grandmother
A trailblazing spirit thrust into a world
OF testing tendentious times
OF traditional family values
Yet he struck his own chord, charted his own
Course amidst the conservative chorus daring
Him to be “a man” and match with the perfect
Wife. 2.5 kids. White picket dreaming.
In a small town commandeered by Catholicism
He hid his truth

Uncle, how I wish I could’ve called on you when
I too, buried my own secrets in that same town
An unholy, blasphemous, pseudo-sacrosanct
Underworld where homosexuality was a servile
Sentence and I served time each day
I feared corybantic consequences
You would have counseled me, we were much
Alike despite five decades apart
I barely knew you when you took your own life
Now I understand the reasons, the antecedents
That steered you to your egregious end

Lured by the bright lights of big city FREEDOM
You left and became a teacher so noble, so fair
Uncle, how I wished you could’ve taught me
About first loves, heartbreak, as maelstroms of
Growing pains and befallen beliefs sundered
My maudlin sense of self
Grief chiseled its unctuous initials
Into my skin, seeping into our shared bloodline
A bond that never was, could never materialize
How you would have saved me from the loathing
If you knew your nephew, bright-eyed and eight
Was just like you…
Would you have stayed?

At your funeral, I whispered forbidden words as
Your coffin was lowered into the gestalt ground
“I’m gay too”
You see, I like you in parallel histories repeating
Knew no different, we were hyper-aware, such a
Perfect pair separated by time
Chosen to stand out and shine
After your death, my family and your life partner
Cut ties, he was labeled clandestine, a blight on
Your life? Your legacy?
Your wishes? Your history?
You were ahead of your time and ahead of mine
The uncle destined to guide me like a parent, yet
Shadows of stigma swallowed your light.

Rest in peace, Uncle Frank.

© Edward Swafford 2025 - originally published in The Parenting Portal.

Thank you for reading.

No audio accompanying this piece. I made a few attempts but choked up after a couple of lines.

My poem is a prime example of a softer approach in tackling the taboo topic of suicide, handled with care and devoted to a loved one.

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