Dear Uncle Eric,
I’ve talked to you a lot the past few years. Your picture hangs up above my electric junction box; my boyfriend and I split custody of your comic book collection.

Sometimes I flash back to those summers when I was kid when you’d walk up the street toward my grandmother’s house, sporting that toothy smile and that dingy Superman shirt.

Ironically, in some ways I feel closer to you now than when you were alive. If I had to choose, though, I’d have you back beside me in a second.

I want to start off by saying, I’m sorry. When you got sick, you tried to reach out. You tried to call. I kept avoiding those calls, and you probably died thinking I didn’t want to speak to you. Or maybe you knew, on some level, that I loved you with all my heart, that I’ve always thought of you as a father. I’ll never know either way, and it breaks my heart and part of me hates myself for not picking up the damn phone.

I don’t hate myself all the time for that–I want you to know that. Only sometimes, and not for very long. Regret is ultimately a waste of time.

I could bemoan the fleeting time we had together, regret never calling you Dad… or I could feel blessed. I do feel blessed. You gave me a whole world, Eric. You gave me comic books and superheroes, Peter Parker and Clark Kent. You gave me Smallville, you gave me X-Men, you gave me all those summers of adventures in Boston, seeing Spiderman in theaters together. You gave me thirty years of listening, empathizing, without any judgment whatsoever. I say this without a hint of doubt–other adults in my life clothed me, fed me, paid for a decent chunk of my college education… but you gave me more than those adults ever did.

For one thing, you didn’t beat me, or scream at me, or throw things at me, or blame me for the family being broken. You didn’t steal from me, call me a faggot when I came out, or tell me I was an evil person.

You saw me. You saw the real me. You saw the light in me, and you nurtured it. That light shines now, bright as the sun, because of YOU.

You taught me how to be a hero, just by being one yourself. You taught me how to be kind to others, even when the world is nothing but cruel. You taught me to show forgiveness where a lesser man might show retribution. Most of all you taught me that those who cause pain, are weak. Those who love and protect others, are the strongest of us, the very best of us.

For that, and so much more, you are, and always will be

My hero.