I’ve been stewing over this entry for a while, getting my thoughts together.

One week ago today (April 6), my Great Uncle passed away. He’d been in the hospital for the last few months, and he was in a great deal of pain so I’m glad he’s not suffering any more, but that doesn’t make his loss any easier. He wasn’t a blood relative, but he and his family are proof that family transcends blood. They’ve been fixtures in my life since as far back as I can remember, and my Great Uncle held that same spot in my heart that a grandfather would. I always remember him as this tall, powerful figure who taught me about physics and helped my with my science projects (back when I was in public school). I feel sad that I hadn’t seen him more in the last several years – maybe a total of a half dozen times since I started university. I visited him a few weeks ago in the hospital and he was so tiny and frail and in so much pain that it broke my heart. It’s funny, but as sick as he was I never thought that our time with him would be so short. I was positive that he’d recover – I mean, he was only in his mid-seventies, and he’d always been there. It’s strange – I’d barely seen him at all in years, and now that he’s gone I miss him like mad. I suppose it’s that I knew he was there, and I could go see him any time, and now I know there’s never going to be another opportunity to see him.

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