Fifty-eight (58) again
This weekend, I saw my sister for the first time in months. She was telling me stuff about people we know, and catches me up with the side of the family I really don't have contact with.
The only extended family of my dad's that we got to know growing up was his maternal grandmother and his mother's brother's family (so, my great uncle). This great uncle and his wife had three boys - cousins to my dad - but all of them were a good deal younger than my dad, the youngest even being closer in age to me than to his actual cousin.
As a kid, the older two were certainly adults, but they were young adults, they were not old like my parents or aunts or uncles. I remember the middle brother getting married to a woman named Jody (though I didn't attend the wedding) and my dad's sister telling everyone she could gossip to that she didn't think the marriage would last because the wedding came about somewhat suddenly and they were so young - 22 or so.
The marriage has lasted 35 years, despite difficulties and my aunt's dour predictions. In May, Jody was diagnosed with bladder cancer. The first doctor thought there was nothing to be overly concerned about, but the doctor they went to for a second opinion had very bad news, and, six months later, she went from a surprise cancer diagnosis to being on the verge of being admitted to hospice. She's 58, just like George Harrison was when he died, which again, is much, much too young, and much too close for comfort.