Dear Uncle Dennis

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• November 19, 2024

Dear Uncle Dennis,

To say you are missed would be an understatement. Not just by me. I’m sorry your last years here were turbulent with illness. I’m sorry you won’t see your granddaughter’s grow up. I’m sorry you won’t be here for Christmas. I’m sorry there was no way for us to save you. I’m sorry for a lot of things.

But still. There are a lot of things I’m not sorry about. Starting with I cannot believe how fortunate I am to not only have had you as my uncle, but my godfather. You were, and always will be, like a second father to me, for all of my days.

In my eyes, you were the true patriarch of the George family. A true lionhearted— not just intelligent but wise, empathetic, generous, caring, a thoughtful listener, and disciplined because you knew that people, especially your family, could be great. Your serious side was well balanced by your charm, humor and playfulness. How I’ve missed dancing with you at family weddings! I’ll forever treasure all of our city adventures, going to plays and whatnot. Most of all, I’ll miss laughing with you and the big bear hugs you gave me every time you saw me, lifting me off my feet, like in that moment there was no one you ever wanted to see more.

I wish we had more  time, but I think, if I can find any solace in the situation, it’s that you made the best of life. Though you worked hard, you traveled the world with the love of your life, Aunt Rosanne, and continued to learn about the world. You never missed any of my stupid dance recital’s when I was a kid, or the plays I was in, and encouraged my own dreams as a writer and stand up.

The George’s, in general, have such a razor wit (often dark and a little messed up) that making any of them laugh with, especially you, means more to me than killing in front of a crowd.

I hope you know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. We all looked up to you. I’ve always felt that you made up for Pop-pop’s faults in fatherhood, especially to my Mom. You were the father to her that he wasn’t. A guardian. It feels woefully unfair that someone who lived a healthy and good life, a person worthy enough of pulling excalibur from the stone, was robbed of time they truly relished here.

It is one of my many blessings that I have so many Uncles and Aunts who have been good to me in my life. And so, I have learned by example how I can be the best aunt to my nephews and niece. I wish you got to know little Blaise, Mitch’s son. He looks like my mom when she was a toddler. So cute. He’s the only person I know who loves trains more than you. He would have had a lot of engine questions for you and he simply loves to just ride the train with good company.

I can still see the memory, like a short film in my mind… You, Aunt Rosanne, my siblings and cousins, playing card games on the train on our way into the city. All smiles, anticipating a big city adventure with the experts (you and Aunt Rosanne), but enjoying the journey on the train just as much as our destination.

I don’t know anything about the afterlife, if there even is one or not. But I hope your last stop here with us was followed by getting on some sort of divine train that took you through your favorite memories; growing up as a kid with your siblings, achieving your goals on the LIRR, having your kids, having a second chance of love with Rosanne, all the Christmas’s with us, our boat and beach days in the summers, Uncle Brian’s Fourth of July parties, your granddaughters, and I hope in this ride, you know that the ones you left behind are better people for knowing you.

I think of you all the time. I love you and always will. Thanks for everything.

All my love, always, your goddaughter,

Lori