Dutchy

I got the news that I lost my uncle last night.

He was one of the good ones on my Dutch side.  There were two of twelve.  The rest ...

He looked out for me after my father died.  I am really lucky, really lucky that he did.  He said he'd do anything for me.  He would.

He worked at the speedway.  Dutchy.  He'd pull men from the wrecks or do the pace.  Everyone trusted him.  One of those icons.

Since he died all the rancid relatives have been coming out of the family forging documents for his home, raiding the valuables, staking counter claims in his house and for his car, bullying each other for podium position at the service, subverting his wishes.  All the usual things your do when a loved one dies.

I'm my father's favourite daughter.  I was his favourite, but I was also the strongest and the one who shut him out.  I was stronger than he was in a way I don't think he expected.  I was the only one who made that bastard, who took lives and innocence and whatever he wanted without conscience, to weep in front of other men.