Uncle Jim

 Last Saturday my sister called to tell me that my Uncle Jim had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. I hadn't seem him in about 8 years, but I loved my uncle very much. He was so big and strong and happy and loving. I was the flower girl in his wedding to my Aunt Sarah many years ago. When he and Aunt Sarah were expecting their first child, they were visiting and he asked my opinion about the name they had chosen. I felt very grown up and special when he asked me, and I assured him that I liked the name. I never doubted that he enjoyed spending time with me whenever we go to see each other. He knew how to listen well and treated everyone with respect.

Grief is weird. When I hung up with my sister, I called my mom so we could cry together for a while. I cried on and off for the next couple days as the grief was huge, and then it settled a bit. Now I go through the days fairly well until I think, "Uncle Jim is dead," and then I cry again. It seems random; I have no idea what triggers the reminder and the tears. Sometimes the grief hits hard and it's difficult to focus on anything much for a while; sometimes I can keep doing whatever I was doing and the grief subsides quickly. I just accept that random tears are normal right now.

Sometimes I cry for myself, and sometimes I cry for my aunt and cousins (and my cousin's wee baby who will not remember her grandfather), and sometimes I cry for my mom who has outlived her parents and her brothers and is the last one in her immediate family (and I don't even want to imagine what that is like).

I loved my uncle very much. I wish I could tell him that again. I wish I could see him one more time.