Death is a curious thing. Particularly in how it makes people act while waiting for it to arrive.
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Made an last minute drive to say goodbye to a great uncle who’s in hospice. We aren’t particularly close but when I heard he was ill, it really struck me.
He has never been the cool uncle or the fun uncle, in fact he was boisterous and opinionated which made for memorable moments at holiday dinners. But he loves/d my aunt Harriet and she loved us. Her favorite nephew’s kids. So he did little things that no one else seemed to do: He talked to us like any other intellectual adversary. Questioning the logic of even an 8 year’s old argument. He’d sent away for a cereal giveaway (lawl, 90s) to get us limited edition plastic cereal bowls and complementary type Hot Wheels type cars.
We didn’t ask for them, but they were a fun surprise, & my parents will have you know they still are in rotation - to feed the pup.
He wasn’t always there, but he didn’t need to be, & when he was, he was himself.
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He may not have been the best dad, and we may not be the closest relatives, but is a decent great uncle. He did right by me and I’ll miss him. Give aunt Harriet a kiss for us all.
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I like to talk about death, because I feel like we don’t and that’s not great. Especially during lesser discussed transition moments, like this when it’s sad and weird and beautiful, & just something that makes you think about life.