This morning my friend and great Uncle Ted passed away. He was well known and well-beloved for his congenial and fun-loving nature. Like a 3rd grandfather to me, I loved him dearly. As a child, whenever I would see him, he would always have a joke to play or a laugh to share with me. In more recent years, he became concerned with my relationship status and took every opportunity to inquire on any new developments in the area. Did I have a beau, yet? Well, why not? About 4 or 5 weeks ago when I saw him at my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary reception, he told me I needed to get on with it, because he wanted to be at my wedding. I promised him, he would not be forgotten whenever such an event might occur. Well, I didn't make it. He was diagnosed a couple of weeks later with acute leukemia (the same disease that his father died from). I went to visit him two days ago when we knew that it was the end. There are so many things I wanted to tell him:
Things like that I really wanted him to be at my wedding and I'm sorry he won't be there, but more imporantly that I want him to be in heaven for a joyful reunion when it's my turn. That I loved him very much. That I'm so grateful for the fond memories I have with him, like...
A snowball fight on a glacier.
A glimpse of a growling bear in the woods, that suspiciously resembled Uncle Ted's form under a blanket.
A bracelet made from an empty spool of masking tape.
A fish in a pocket.
A barefoot wade in a cold stream.
A few drops of cold water on a sleeping face.
A good laugh.
A warm hug.
A dear friend.
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