I just finished watching the rest of The Butterfly Effect. Actually I watched it and then I watched the first half hour with commentary.

That movie fucked with my head. Mainly because the concept of it is what I've wanted to do for at least half of my life. Go back and make it better.

I so fucking wish.

I've had this thought before. I was standing in the kitchen a few minutes ago wondering at what point would I want to come back and make things different and better. I decided I wouldn't want things too different from my childhood mainly because I wouldn't want to chance my sister Mandy not having all her children. I would hate to change that.

And then the thought popped into my head that I know I've had before.

I would not let my Uncle Bobby get cancer. He died 14 years ago. He'd smoked most of his life. He never got to reach the age of 50. I would go back and make him stop smoking which would encourage my Dad to stop as well. And my Uncle Bobby would still be around and would be my father's best friend still. I hate seeing my father as lonely as I think he is. He loves my Mom, I know. And she loves him as well. But everyone needs a friend to be there for you. They were as close as any friends can be. And I think a little part of my Dad died when my uncle died.

I hate that. I just want to change that.

I hate writing that I've been sobbing for the past ten minutes. I don't write that out of wanting sympathy. I'm crying for my Dad. I'm crying because I still miss my uncle. I just feel things would have been so different.

The last time I saw my Uncle Bobby was when my Dad was taking him to the Vet Hospital up in Salisbury, which is almost an hour away. I really didn't know just how sick he was. He didn't either. He thought it was pneumonia. My Dad said something "Aren't you going to give him a hug?". I got up and hugged him. And that was the last time I saw him.

I feel so awful for not visiting him at the hospital. But my family,especially my father, is big on denial. I still feel so guilty for not seeing him.

At his funeral, I didn't want to view the body. I just couldn't. I wouldn't want my last thought to be of him that way.

I remember him as the wisecracking, fun uncle. He had his bad moments,sure. But as he got older, he was somebody I would sit and watch tv with as a friend. He lived with us for a short while when he first got sick. I liked having him around even though our townhouse was too small for 4 people. I liked having him around because my Dad loved having his brother near.

My father grew up with 5 brothers and a sister. Two of his brothers are dead now. My Uncle Ernest died from complications of Parkinson's Disease. But he was the next to oldest. My Uncle Bobby was next to youngest.

I miss him. But my father needs him. I wish he was here.

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