The Good Uncle, The Bad Husband

My uncle has always been a kind and lovely person to me. His name is Robert Sparks, I call him Uncle Rob. His wife, Aunt Mary, is my father’s younger sister. They have a baby son called Theo. My uncle and aunt live in Alabama, next to where I live in Atlanta. We visit them quite often, once in a month.

Everything was kind of different, when I realized my uncle is not the person I thought he was. Last weekend, I flew alone to Alabama, to stay over at my uncle’s house for the long weekend. My parents didn’t join me because they had to go to a friend’s funeral. I arrived Friday night and both my uncle and aunt picked me up at the airport. They took me to a Taco restaurant right away, and we had a great dinner. I was really excited when I finally got to see my baby cousin; he’s missed me so much.

I couldn’t forget the next night, when my aunt was preparing dinner for all of us. Theo, Uncle Rob and I were already sitting down at the dining table. Uncle Rob then asked Aunt Mary to prepare a glass of wine for him. After a while, she brought it for him, but the glass accidentally slipped from her fingers, and the glass fell. Later, Uncle Rob grabbed Aunt Mary and dragged her to their bedroom. Theo and I were left alone in the dining room. I took Theo and calmed him down. At first I didn’t understand what was going on. It then got my curiosity up, so I went upstairs to see my uncle and aunt. Their bedroom’s door wasn’t exactly closed, so I took a peek. What I found was, my lovely uncle abusing my aunt. All I saw was slapping and hitting. She was crying, but she couldn’t do anything. I looked at my uncle’s eyes, and all I see was hatred. He was totally a different person. At that time I realized that my uncle has been abusing my aunt for some time because there were many bruises on my aunt’s body.

That night I called my parents to pick me up the next morning. I didn’t tell them anything, but I said I need to go home. I was really scared of the situation, and wanted to leave that house soon. When I finally arrived home, I told my parents everything. They immediately phoned my aunt after I told them how my uncle was so abusive to her. My aunt finally confessed to my parents that she had been abused by my uncle for about a year. Two days ago she reported the case and filed a divorce, and my uncle was questioned by the police to give some explanation. I really hope that my uncle gets to learn a lesson.


Tonight I got the opportunity to have an awesome dinner with my goofy uncle Rob Paulsen so I drew him some Donatello fan art! He’s in town for Denver Comic Con! If you are here too, definitely stop and say hi to him! I’ll be wandering around as April O'Neil too if you wanna say hi (not nearly as cool, but I’ll throw it out there anyway haha)


So I’m sitting here in front of my iMac, looking outside at the melting snow (its nearly +5 Celsius right now) and in my head going over this past year.

I dunno how I feel about it Tumblr. I feel so disconnected from 2011.

Sure, this year has had it good: Finding four jobs, meeting the guy who called me hot (and screwing him),  falling for boys for the first time openly etc.

Yet, the bad is still there: losing all 4 jobs (three were temp so that was going to end, Ricki’s was an unexpected lay off), my Uncle’s pancreatic cancer and his sudden passing, boys again fall into the mix, and just random teenage drama that needed to get the fuck out of my life.

2011 was a year I won’t forget, but it will be a year that I might not choose to remember immediately upon recalling memories.

Is 2012 going to be a fresh slate? I don’t know.

My mother once told me a story

About her father’s best friend. When he was younger, he was accepted into MIT. It was the 1944. But before he was able to go, he was drafted and sent to France. Whilst there, he was shot in the leg. The bullet shattered his kneecap. It was an accident, friendly fire; his commanding officer was cleaning his gun when it misfired. From that day, he always limped. He was discharged due to his injury, and returned the US. He never went to MIT. Instead, he chose to work at a school, teaching history, where he stayed for many, many years. There, he met my grandfather. 

They knew each other for over 50 years, and remained close friends up until the day he died. 

I recently asked my mother to tell me this story. She didn’t understand why on earth I wanted to hear old stories about a man I only met once, when I was too young to remember. But I needed to hear it. My grandfather’s best friend once told my mother that, for many years, he thought that being shot in the leg was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. It wasn’t until years after, he realised that had that not happened, he never would have met my grandfather.

I think about this story often, and the man who told it to my mother, who told it to me. I wish I could have known him.


Dear Sweet Pea:

For your auntie Erryn’s 25th birthday we went on a mountain cabin get away:) You got to meet uncle Rob for the first time!

You were a rock star and didn’t complain on the drive, hiking in the cold, or hanging out with a bunch of grown ups:)