My great-uncle passed away yesterday. And though it's not a surprise, the finality of it all is hard to grasp. I know he's is gone, but I can't stop wishing to see him again. To talk to him. To have his voice waiting on my answering machine: 'It's Uncle Henry. Nothing urgent, just calling to say...'
I know that so much in life is fleeting - it just seems so unfair. Life isn't fair, my mother used to say. And like I child I want to stomp my feet and demand it to be so. It's not fair that my uncle was taken away when I was only getting to know him. How is it that someone who brought into my life such love, acceptance, support, and encouragement be already gone? Gone.
Yes, I know. I have the memories. I have a photograph of him standing in a shaft of sunlight by the mulberry tree at his farm... But memories can't replace him - there are such a dim, small shadow of his life.
Still, I will treasure those memories. I'll be grateful for them, grateful for him. I'll cry a little yet still feel blessed.
Blessed to have, however briefly, walked on this earth with him.