I got the call last night...the only Uncle I had ever known on my mom's side had collapsed in a restaurant and died. We had just spent time with him over the Christmas holidays. His wife had recently passed away and although everything looked alright on the outside, we knew all was not well.
Looking back on it, I had a normal relationship with him (I guess). We were closer when I was young, as he and my Grandfather were best buddies. We drifted apart during my high school and college years and had a little falling out, but as we grew older things came back to center. For the last several years we'd exchange books and other small things like that. I always wanted to sit down with him and talk about his WW2 experience, but like many of the men from that era, that subject never came up. I do know he was in the Battle of the Bulge and took part in liberating a Nazi concentration camp, but those memories are lost now.
I think what's bothering me the most is knowing how tore up he was when his wife passed, and learning that he died alone in a restaurant. He and my Aunt had a lot of social friends, but we were their only family. No one should have to die alone.
The small family group I grew up with is now one smaller.
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