Uncle Henry

My dear sweet great-uncle, 93 years young, passed away on Easter Sunday. He held on a lot longer than any one of us thought he would. We got the first phone three weeks ago, that "it was time."

At the service yesterday, the deacon said that obviously he was waiting for something, holding on for some reason, known only to him. He was waiting for Easter, the deacon said, waiting for Jesus. It was a nice, comforting thought.

We didn't have him for very long (read My Mother's Family for the back story), but we loved and adored him as if he had been in our lives from the moment we were born.

I can still hear him call me "dear." And one of my friends from work gave me some scratch-off tickets in honor of Uncle Henry -- I also slipped a couple in the weekly cards I sent him.

I miss you already, Uncle Henry.