RIP Uncle Walt
Tomorrow is my Uncle Walt's funeral and wake, but I can't go because I didn't manage to cram two days of work into one today. That's the nature of my job--when I take time off, I don't have less work, just less time to do it in. :sigh:
My Uncle Walt was always a hoot to be around--funny, upbeat, the kind of person you automatically think of when you hear the words, "the life of the party." During World War II this sweet, funny man was actually in the Battle of the Bulge and, like his other three brothers who were in the various services (my grandfather also worked for the draft board) survived the war intact, never seeming traumatized by his experiences, about which he never spoke. However, he, like my dad, declined to see Saving Private Ryan when it came out, having heard about how realistic it was; they both said basically the same thing, that they'd seen enough people die (my dad was in India and what would become Pakistan during the war) and didn't need to pay to see a movie about it to remind them what that's like.
In the last few years Walt was dealing with cancer and was recently in a lot of pain as he was losing his battle, so it was a mercy that he died in his sleep earlier this week. My mother, his sister, said he wanted to go, he was in so much pain. He lived to be 92, only about six months shy of his father's lifespan. Now my mom is down to four brothers. (She used to have nine, and all three of her sisters are also still alive and kicking, fortunately.)
I'll always have very fond memories of Uncle Walt. You know how you sometimes avoid certain members of your extended family at gatherings because this one pinches your cheek painfully or that one has a horrible nickname for you, or the other guy can't even remember which of your nieces you are? Not Uncle Walt. I not only never avoided him, I sought him out, because he was, as they say, the Life of the Party and you could never have a dull time when he was around. I like to think that now he's just getting his party started. ;)
My Uncle Walt was always a hoot to be around--funny, upbeat, the kind of person you automatically think of when you hear the words, "the life of the party." During World War II this sweet, funny man was actually in the Battle of the Bulge and, like his other three brothers who were in the various services (my grandfather also worked for the draft board) survived the war intact, never seeming traumatized by his experiences, about which he never spoke. However, he, like my dad, declined to see Saving Private Ryan when it came out, having heard about how realistic it was; they both said basically the same thing, that they'd seen enough people die (my dad was in India and what would become Pakistan during the war) and didn't need to pay to see a movie about it to remind them what that's like.
In the last few years Walt was dealing with cancer and was recently in a lot of pain as he was losing his battle, so it was a mercy that he died in his sleep earlier this week. My mother, his sister, said he wanted to go, he was in so much pain. He lived to be 92, only about six months shy of his father's lifespan. Now my mom is down to four brothers. (She used to have nine, and all three of her sisters are also still alive and kicking, fortunately.)
I'll always have very fond memories of Uncle Walt. You know how you sometimes avoid certain members of your extended family at gatherings because this one pinches your cheek painfully or that one has a horrible nickname for you, or the other guy can't even remember which of your nieces you are? Not Uncle Walt. I not only never avoided him, I sought him out, because he was, as they say, the Life of the Party and you could never have a dull time when he was around. I like to think that now he's just getting his party started. ;)