Happy faces for Uncle Cliff

I used to chat online with my brother a lot. Since he had moved away our busy lives made voice calls difficult, and since he got sick, he was stranded next to the computer a lot. It was a huge help in keeping us connected and rebuilding the tattered relationship left over from our youths.

My son would frequently want attention during these chat sessions, and he was very attracted to the cartoonish emoticons and other brief, goofy animations you could send to your correspondent; to say hi with a mummy, or let a vampire tell them their breath stank, or whatever. Pretty soon, Brian would want to "send happy faces to Uncle Cliff" all the time. Sometimes Uncle Cliff was at the computer on the other end, sometimes not; Brian like to interact with him, but was also well-entertained just clicking on the cartoons, which worked fine even if no one was watching on the other end.

My brother was good with my little son. He'd tolerate the toddling imp, his ridiculous energy, and even enjoy his crazy kid nonsense much more than I did. He could key into it in a way that I still wish I could better emulate. He also enjoyed the chat interaction with Brian, and would throw all the weirdest animations right back at Brian that he could find, and crack him up.

Right after my brother died, Brian would still want to "send happy faces to Uncle Cliff." I couldn't tell whether he intended that Uncle Cliff was on the other end of it, or if that's just what he'd come to call the act of clicking on those cartoons. Just to be sure, I had to gently explain that Uncle Cliff couldn't send happy faces back any more. It kills me, this contrast between nostalgia, tragedy and the unknowing innocence of a five year-old boy.

I still remember you, bro. We all still have happy faces for Uncle Cliff.