As I drove my uncle to the Veterans Administration for his quarterly psychiatric evaluation, I felt overwhelmed with emotion and humbled by life. Tears freely welled up in my sun-glass covered eyes. My soul experienced a sense of awe as it was graced by the unselfish kindness radiated by my uncle. This was my first trip alone with my uncle and memories of the uncle I once knew flashed before me.

At the age of 20, my uncle was sent to Germany while serving in the army. He was discharged for mental instability and was later diagnosed with schizophrenia. For the next thirty years, my uncle lived most of his life in a bedroom in my grandmother’s house. My grandmother refused to seek extensive medical help for my uncle and the reasons are unknown to me. I believe my grandmother, who has since passed away, possibly felt she could provide the best care for her son or maybe she was in denial about his mental illness. I can only speculate as to why she kept my uncle from receiving medical treatment so he could live a more fulfilling life. Plus, I can only imagine the toll it took on my grandmother to take care of her schizophrenic son for thirty years.

Whenever my family would make the trip to Western Springs, IL to visit my grandmother and uncle, I always felt uneasy about seeing my uncle. As we sat and visited with my grandmother, I would hear my uncle talking to himself in his room. These “talks” usually involved my uncle verbally attacking the demonic thoughts that constantly swarmed through his mind.

As a child I didn’t understand what was wrong with my uncle and it just seemed that he was angry with the world. When my uncle would emerge from the bedroom, the sight of him always caused my body to tighten up in shock mixed with fear. My uncle was rail thin and had long unruly hair that made him look like a figure out of a horror movie. He would greet my family in somewhat of a paranoid way and then would quickly return to his bedroom. I remember my uncle lived on McDonald’s because this was, and still is, his favorite food. As a child, it’s interesting what stands out in your memory.

The uncle today that sat in the passenger’s seat beside me helped me locate the Veterans Administration and then he even spotted a parking spot in the crowded lot. I knew my uncle had a fear of seeing doctors and he was probably nervous about his appointment. All I saw however was a calm and collected man who took the lead in making sure our trip to the VA went smoothly.

After the appointment I took my uncle to McDonald’s, against my better health-conscious judgment, and he was very concerned that I didn’t want a cheeseburger and large fries too. I told him I was a vegetarian and he replied, “You could get a fish sandwich.” I just laughed and decided not to get into the fact that I don’t eat fish or McDonald’s.

The trip ended with my uncle, who now lives in an assisted living home where he is loved by the staff and residents, walking me out to my car and shutting the door for me. For the past thirty plus years my uncle has been to schizophrenic hell and back, yet he is one of the most kind and considerate men I know today. I am grateful for the treatment he has received since leaving my grandmother’s house and I am grateful for the man he has become.

There are times in life when your soul is touched in a profound way and this was one of those times for me. The events of the day were a reminder of the amazing beauty and resilience of the human spirit. My uncle is a living inspiration that despite everything one can go through in life, love can, and should be, the state we live in on a daily basis.

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