by Chris Garton
It's been five weeks.
Rob joked his way into my life when we were 20 years old. Thirty-four years later, he was still firmly planted there. In between, I married his brother and had two kids who are lucky enough to call Rob their one and only Uncle Unappropriate (UU).
Rob was not a sometimes-uncle. He’s been an Always-Uncle, starting in California when Henry was born, and then in New York a couple of years later when Nina arrived. If we were in Denver or in the midwest visiting the grandparents, Rob would be there. No matter where we were, Rob arrived and was there, effortlessly earning his UU title and cooking us dinner. Then we’d part ways, and he’d send stacks of postcards to Henry and Nina from wherever he was to wherever we were.
When Rob visited us in Tanzania and I fell in love with Rebecca, I couldn’t imagine how he could possibly give me anything better than the sister she immediately was. But Rob was always up for the next adventure, so a few years later we got our boys. Being Dommy and Luca’s Titi will forever be one of my favorite and most honored roles.
Rob and Rebecca helped us move into our house in Bozeman and the Colorado-Montana commute began. When his brother and I divorced, Rob remained a constant in my life, mentoring and teasing and loving Henry and Nina; and with me, sharing various ups and downs of this most recent decade of life.
Rob’s complexities and nuances unfolded for me over time, and I will never take for granted the privilege it was to be invited to the table of his growth as a human.
As we all know, Rob was funnier than hell, and nobody could make me laugh harder. For a guy who is pretty much famous for his humor, Rob also took his connections and relationships damn seriously, made clear by what’s been shared in the days since he left us.
The breadth and depth of Rob’s reach included all of us. Incredible.
Four days before Rob died, he and Rebel sent me a text listing all of the reasons why Mark and I should move to Seattle. I can’t repeat some of them of course, but number two was, “Help raise Dominic and Luca.”
It is my sorrow that you are not here to do it yourself, Rob. And it is my honor to do my best, in your absence.
The full measure of our loss is yet to be completely realized. The full measure of my luck at having been Rob’s sister all of these years, is not.
Love you and miss you forever, Rob. -Titi
