Uncle Alan...

[fajrdrako]

I got a phone call from my cousin Mike today: my Uncle Alan died. He was my mother's older brother; he was 92 years old.

I knew him, but not well. We weren't close, but when we met we got along well. I had a sense that he was like my mother and like my Aunt Isie and hence like me. The last time I saw him was Aunt Isie's funeral. I feel the loss not so much of him but of that whole generation of siblings who had such an influence on my own life. Though I didn't really know him well in person, I knew him well from my mother's many stories; how he liked books and art and had a wry sense of humour and a sense of adventure.

This year, Uncle Alan sent me a Christmas card. I hadn't expected it - I don't know why not, since he and Auntie Jean had always sent me Christmas cards, but Auntie Jean had died and for some reason I didn't expect a card from an uncle of 92 whom I have seldom seen in my whole life. I was aburdly and deeply touched that he had sent it. That was a special kindness I never expected, and I appreciated it more than I can explain even to myself. Perhaps it mitigated, just a little, my sense of being alone in the world. Yes, I have the world's most wonderful friends, but I don't have family.

And now I have one less relative.