A Eulogy to my Guncle

My mourning song. Listen if you want. Or don't. I've got it on repeat. This will be long. Read it if you want. Or don't. I'm in grief and don't give a fuck about grammar.I had a gay uncle. He was technically a second cousin, my dad's cousin. He was more of an uncle to me than anyone else in my family. He was the only one who ever pushed me to be better. I've affectionately referred to him as my guncle for the past few years. I was informed a few hours ago that he died in his sleep last night.I'm devastated. We last spoke briefly on Xmas. We had spoken for about 10 minutes the night of the Alabama election. He had spiteful things to say of our current administration. That was my last meaningful conversation with him.I'm from a scary baptist family in the shitty jesus loving parts of north eastern tennessee. I was a brainwashed little zealot. I attribute my guncle 80% for my progressive personality as it is today. This is why.He would always talk to me as an adult when I was little. He lived in Orlando, FL, and worked for the mouse as a manager in various hotel properties over his career. We'd take spring break yearly to go to Disney, because he'd be able to get the family in free. I'm on his dad's side of the family. His dad is buried in my hometown. For many years he'd come up in the fall around when his dad died and take flowers to his grave. His dad died long before I was born and I never met him.When I was 15 on a spring break trip to Disney he offered to let me come stay with him for the summer, crash on his couch, and he'd network me a summer gig as a highschool teen at Disney. I eagerly accepted, because he was my beloved uncle. I went with him one day to run errands that week and he came out to me in his truck. I'm the only member of our entire extended family that he ever came out to. It took me off guard, but I still came down to stay with him for the summer.I'll never forget that summer. I slept on his couch. He brought me along through all facets of his life. He was in a gay bowling league, and I went weekly. That was my first true exposure to the culture. I met some amazing friends that I still text on occasion - older men who were just nice and cool to me. One of them introduced me to a ton of awesome music, he'd burn cd's for me (this was circa 2003 and that was still a thing). We'd go to his best friend's house and watch movies with him and his partner on Sunday nights, along with dinner. He took me to my first pride parade, in Orlando. We went to one of his league teammate's 4th of july rooftop condo party. He took me to Canaveral to watch a satellite get launched. He fed me. He took care of me. He bought me skyy blue and allowed me to get drunk for the first time in my life. While there I realized the hate and bigotry and insanity my family exposed me to via their psycho christian ways was total bullshit. I went home completely changed in my personality. I tell people that I was partially raised by my gay uncle. In reality I spent 2 summers with him, but the true core facets of my personality were shaped over those two summers. I was his confidant. He'd tell me stories of his shenanigans. I know insane details about the gay bowling league tournament orgies - the one that no longer exists in new orleans. Countless stories. Countless good memories.Time went on, and he became my closest relative outside of my nuclear family. I'd try to visit him when able once a year. I frequently made the drive down to see him for a few days. Spent thanksgiving with him prior to my joining the navy. I'd see him over Xmas in TN when I was there.I skipped christmas with the family this year, because i frankly don't enjoy being around all my cousins and their hellion children. I didn't see him in 2017 as a result. I've been meaning to catch up with him for weeks and haven't. And now he's gone. And I never will. I'm dating someone I see a long term future possibility with and I was planning for him to meet her in October. He never will now. She'll never meet this really important figure in my life. He won't be there for me to tell him the news that I finally finished my degree. All the adventures I'll have. All my stories. All my experiences. He was one of the primary ones I was looking to talk to and share with. And he's gone. And that's it. Fuck.He's in Orlando, I called him the morning after Pulse to check on him and his people. He knew one person through friends. I called him the morning after the supreme court passed marriage equality. I called him when his mom died and I was working ski resorts in CO. He cried on the phone with me while I stood on a balcony watching the kat's groom the mountain. I met his other side of the family on a set of farms where he spent summers himself as a kid. So many memories.I'm lost on how to proceed. My family, outside of my sister, has no idea his orientation. I want them to know because it doesn't fucking matter. It changes nothing. But they're all hardcore jesus and I don't want anything negative. But I just want them to fucking know. I've kept it almost entirely secret for 15 years. It changes nothing. I guess I hope if I outted him eventually posthumously that they'd be understanding and more accepting. I don't know.I don't have peace. So much left unsaid. So much of my life that I expected him to be a part of and now he isn't. And that's it. The finality. This hurts the most out of any death in my life thus far.If you read this, thank you. I would ask that you tell anyone important to you in your life, similar to how my guncle was in mine, that you love and appreciate them.