My Uncle J, who had been fighting various types of cancer for the better part of a decade, lost his battle with bone cancer at 2:30 on Sunday morning.
He lived very close to me. About 3 miles or so. But I'd not been to visit him at all in the past two years and the guilt I've got right now because of that is enormous. Like I've got an elephant sitting on my conscience - and she has just settled in for a nice long visit.
I don't do well with illness. With watching people become sicker and sicker. But I should've sucked it up and gone to visit anyway. He was one of the good ones, ya know?
Even though I hadn't seen him, I knew he was there. I knew he still breathed, still walked, still ate really delicious pork ribs (he made the best sauce you've ever eaten). Knew he still WAS. And now he's not. He's other. I just hope he comes and visits me in my dreams.
God I'm gonna miss him.