I am in a funk. It has been with me for a complete seven days now. Last Thursday I found out my
wonderful Uncle Rob passed away. He was the last of the aunts and uncles on my mother’s side.
Uncle Rob was married to my Mom’s younger sister, Edna. Aunt Edna was half of the twin girls. Her other half was Verna Dean. We all called her, at one point or another, Aunt Don-Dean, or Aunt Vernie.
Uncle Rob and Aunt Edna were always a pair. Even if they weren’t together you knew the other was somehow present. Uncle Rob was the last uncle on my mother’s side of the family. Even bring as old as I am I just sort of expected Uncle Rob to always be there. That is just the sort of person he is…was. If you needed him or wanted to see him, he was there.
My Daddy actually loved the man Uncle Rob was. He was really family as far as my Dad was concerned. This was a special designation for Daddy. He had plenty friends, but his family was the important people in his world.
I couldn’t go to the funeral because of health reasons, but my heart was there with all the boys, my cousins; grand kids, and great-grandchildren.
Memories have been flooding my waking hours. Pretty much all the memories are good ones. There are some bad in there, because life isn’t always perfect. Those sad times are softened by time and lots of love. Uncle Rob is now with my beloved Aunt Enda and my Mommy and Daddy and all the others that passed over. This doesn’t mean he is forgotten. None of them will be forgotten.
Still, I’m in a funk. Every time I’ve picked up my pen the words coming out are sad, sorrowful ones. The current scene is a sad one anyway – it was sad before I learned the sad news. Now the scene is truly filled with anguish and tears. The scribe just doesn’t know what to do to comfort his love since she discovered her mother handed the entire kingdom over to a truly evil ruler and released the dark court onto the land again. What can be possibly say to make it better? Nothing. What can be do to let her know she isn’t going through this alone? Very little.
Real life enters stories even when we don’t want it to.
Back to the ink mines.