And now, there are only two.
http://home.earthlink.net/~creekmomma/tribute.JPG
Uncle Rhab, I did not realize how big the hole would be without you here. There are so many of you up there now, and so little of us down here. Your baby sister and baby brother are cold and crying. The tipi light flickers and we look up to the night sky for solace. Wado.
The pain is so fresh, and the anger so old. Dr Ballaro has much to answer for. I am almost certain that if he had not botched up Glen’s surgery, we would have had uncle Rhab for another year or so. My uncle loved his baby son so much, he died slowly with grief. . . . . A few of my coworkers from the old CRMC may remember that Dr Ballaro stopped doing his gastric bypass soon after he botched up on a cousin close to my age. That was uncle Rhab’s son. I was counting narcotics at the end of the shift, and didn’t know till I got home that the “code blue” I heard overhead was for Glen.
Out of my mom’s ten siblings, I only have one living uncle left. A once large, close-knit family has been whittled away to a precious few. I know the majority of them are in heaven, but it still hurts. I so want to talk to maw or Aunt Polly, how I long to share a cup of coffee with them once again, to tell them all about Abbie and her latest antics, or how so afraid I am of stagnating in my nursing career. I thought I was so capable of handling this loss, but it hurt me just the same. Soon, I know the phone will ring again. This time it will be my brother delivering news I don’t want to hear, and the tears will burn even more.
Be thankful for each passing moment.