My uncle passed away last week. As is often the case, he seemed to be doing a little better and there started to be hope and then he was gone. It isn't an unexpected passing. As sick as he was, I didn't expect to get to visit with him again. He would have reserved that time for the close family. I would want that. But, he is gone for me.
Memories of that uncle--he came to visit my family when I was four years old and brought me a beautiful copy of Alice in Wonderland. I still have it, I just can't find it. But, it is here in my house somewhere. When my uncle was coming to stay overnight when he worked in baseball my mom would try to impress him by buying baked goods and special foods. I remember a time when my brother saw cinnamon rolls with the groceries and remarked that he didn't know that uncle was coming. (The rest of us did know, that brother was a little clueless sometimes.) I remember that my mother thought that uncle didn't like chicken so we went to great lengths not to serve chicken when he visited. Yet I also recall having chicken almost every time I ate at his house. I went to his wedding. It was the first wedding I really remember. I remember going with my dad to get a Christening cup for his daughter. I am his son's Godmother. And on and on. I wish I had more time. I wish I had asked more questions.
So, this week I am headed to a funeral. It is across the country. I will drive carefully. I will get there and back safely. It is a challenge. But, I have to be there.
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