Feeling more able...
So, Uncle Tim...
He was a veteran of the Korean War, and maybe Vietnam (I'm not sure) and he was born in the early 40s. He had three kids, and many grandkids. He also had 7 siblings, only one passed before him (back in the late 80s, and only 2 years after his father's death). He's going to have a memorial in Georgia, where he lived recently, and then be buried in Elm Creek, where he was born and raised. I think he's going to be buried with his grandparents, parents and brother.
It's weird... 2008... he died only 8 years after his mother.
It's not really a surprise. He was always a chain-smoking alcoholic who had badly sun-damaged skin. Everyone knew he was sick, but no one knew just how sick.
He died exactly the way his father did - with cancer spreading all over his entire body. His dad, actually, had his body donated to medical research because he had brand new types of cancer in his body. He's in some medical books.
So, Uncle Tim (or George - he went by both names because his birth name was Timothy, but they called him George in the army) didn't tell anyone how sick he was. Which, is pretty much like him. He wouldn't want anyone to worry, he wouldn't want to deal with the goodbyes, and he wouldn't want to admit defeat.
He was one of the most stubborn people you'd ever find, but he was also the kind of guy who'd give you the shirt right off his back in a heartbeat.
I didn't really know him as a kid, but we'd seen each other many times in the past few years.
Even though I knew he was sick... I still figured I'd be seeing him for the next few years.
I can't even imagine how my grandmother is doing... Losing a brother has to be one of the hardest things someone could experience. I remember when my Uncle Dick died... It was a complete shock, and my grandfather still hasn't healed.
I think that, for myself, I feel okay. I mean, I'm sad, and I miss him already... but I think I'm mostly hurting for my family, and because of the loss and pain and sadness I know everyone else is feeling. That's how it was with Uncle Dick, though. I felt okay with his death until I started thinking about how much my grandpa was hurting, and then I broke down. It still makes me tear up.
I want a drink.
Or some vicodin.
But... that's just the alcoholism in my family talking. Or maybe it's a normal response for someone who'd both been drunk before and is grieving. I have a feeling it's the family history of alcoholism, though. I'm going to try to ignore it.
I think that I thought he would live longer, partially, because of his little sister Jenny. She has lupus and was supposed to die at around age 19. Instead, she has kids, grand kids, a severe drug problem, and she's in her mid-40s. I think her vitality made me think that Uncle Tim would live longer.
Then again, for a man who doesn't take care of himself, and who's been heavily drinking and smoking since he was 17, not to mention all the problems from the war... making it to 70 isn't bad.
He was a veteran of the Korean War, and maybe Vietnam (I'm not sure) and he was born in the early 40s. He had three kids, and many grandkids. He also had 7 siblings, only one passed before him (back in the late 80s, and only 2 years after his father's death). He's going to have a memorial in Georgia, where he lived recently, and then be buried in Elm Creek, where he was born and raised. I think he's going to be buried with his grandparents, parents and brother.
It's weird... 2008... he died only 8 years after his mother.
It's not really a surprise. He was always a chain-smoking alcoholic who had badly sun-damaged skin. Everyone knew he was sick, but no one knew just how sick.
He died exactly the way his father did - with cancer spreading all over his entire body. His dad, actually, had his body donated to medical research because he had brand new types of cancer in his body. He's in some medical books.
So, Uncle Tim (or George - he went by both names because his birth name was Timothy, but they called him George in the army) didn't tell anyone how sick he was. Which, is pretty much like him. He wouldn't want anyone to worry, he wouldn't want to deal with the goodbyes, and he wouldn't want to admit defeat.
He was one of the most stubborn people you'd ever find, but he was also the kind of guy who'd give you the shirt right off his back in a heartbeat.
I didn't really know him as a kid, but we'd seen each other many times in the past few years.
Even though I knew he was sick... I still figured I'd be seeing him for the next few years.
I can't even imagine how my grandmother is doing... Losing a brother has to be one of the hardest things someone could experience. I remember when my Uncle Dick died... It was a complete shock, and my grandfather still hasn't healed.
I think that, for myself, I feel okay. I mean, I'm sad, and I miss him already... but I think I'm mostly hurting for my family, and because of the loss and pain and sadness I know everyone else is feeling. That's how it was with Uncle Dick, though. I felt okay with his death until I started thinking about how much my grandpa was hurting, and then I broke down. It still makes me tear up.
I want a drink.
Or some vicodin.
But... that's just the alcoholism in my family talking. Or maybe it's a normal response for someone who'd both been drunk before and is grieving. I have a feeling it's the family history of alcoholism, though. I'm going to try to ignore it.
I think that I thought he would live longer, partially, because of his little sister Jenny. She has lupus and was supposed to die at around age 19. Instead, she has kids, grand kids, a severe drug problem, and she's in her mid-40s. I think her vitality made me think that Uncle Tim would live longer.
Then again, for a man who doesn't take care of himself, and who's been heavily drinking and smoking since he was 17, not to mention all the problems from the war... making it to 70 isn't bad.