I later learned he'd died from AIDS, but when it really started to hurt me was when I myself started to realize (also at an early age) that I liked girls and I really hate that he didn't live longer. After all, I was a five year old girl, so. I can remember seeing him in the back bedroom, the guest bedroom, of my grandparents house, dying and he wanted to hug me but I was too scared. My uncle was the only queer person in his family, and they accepted him, but he died when I was only about 5 or younger. Please practice reddiquette, report rule violations and most importantly enjoy yourself!
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