The Greatest Gift ??

Earlier this week I was in New York City with my older daughter when we received word my Uncle Lou was in hospice upstate where I grew up. Uncle Lou is my Dad's older brother, and the sage and soul of the O'Neil family.

He is 93, a Veteran, a vegan, walks barefoot most places, played in three softball leagues until he was 89, and lives in the same house in New Windsor, NY for the past 40 years. Uncle Lou is the most centered, peaceful and loving person I have ever known. I had to see him.

I put Calla on a train back to DC and made my way north to Montefiore St. Luke's Hospital in Newburgh, NY. Going home itself was a gift as the streets brought back vivid memories of childhood and the people and places that shaped me.

Louis O’Neil has lived a remarkable life. He was in trouble a lot growing up in Queens and went into the Marine Corps pretty much to avoid going to jail. He became a helicopter pilot and flew 1,176 missions over two tours in Vietnam. He survived the Tet Offensive, received 59 air medals, a Purple Heart and the Distinguished Flying Cross. He experienced the worst of humanity overseas, killed too many people to count and saw too many friends killed including his wingman sitting right next to him while rescuing wounded soldiers. He drank a lot to escape the horrors of war. Alcoholism cost him his wife and four kids for many years following Vietnam. His life should have ended countless times during the storms he endured and created. This was all before Uncle Lou turned 35.

For the next 50 years of his life, Uncle Lou went to work rediscovering himself, learning to forgive and investing in mastering his conscience. He found love again and blessed our family with two more cousins. He committed to feeding his body and soul, cultivating community and spreading love to those in need. I have never met a person more centered, content and at peace.

Uncle Lou has terminal cancer and RSV so I had to gown up before entering his room. I was afraid he would not recognize me through the mask, gloves and full gown. He immediately smiled and began repeating a simple and revealing phrase in his patented low voice with his undeniable warmth and presence…'so many good things, so many good things.'

The doctors say he will die soon. He looked different and one round of chemo seven days earlier has completely paralyzed his legs. But, he was still Uncle Lou and I could not wait to talk with him for the last time.

I walked to his bedside, we held hands tightly and I told him how special he was to our family. He was awake and alert - so I went for it:

Uncle Lou, you have created a life of such happiness and well-being, what is the secret?

He did not hesitate.

I have 100% control of my conscience. I surround myself with people I love every day who feed my soul and the outside world has no impact on my state of mind.

I was not sure exactly what all this meant until I witnessed its power over the next three hours. While oxygen machines beeped and nurses came in and out, Uncle Lou remained fully present, at peace and in control of his state of mind. So many good things, so many good things. We laughed and cried about the time we spent years ago when he lived with us. We talked his kids and Aunt Angie and how grateful he was that they found forgiveness and allowed him back in their lives again over the years. Eleven friends came to the room during my visit - two from his AA group, one from his Saturday morning breakfast club that has been meeting for 27 straight years and others from his softball teams and a few Veterans he keeps a close eye on as they navigate life. The authentic, judge-less love and connectedness was a visible force field with Uncle Lou at the center. At a few natural breaks in the action, Uncle Lou would smile and repeat, 'so many good things, so many good things.'

What a gift - the secret to a life well-lived! I have a lot to work on in 2024, but I know Uncle Lou will be by my side.