The thing about happy days is you know deep down as you're experiencing them that there is nowhere to go but down. And I had a gut feeling about this morning, as I was playing with Ben. It was a carefree kind of day- all the shopping is done, there's no school, and no obligations.
We were playing a game called "Super Crabby", where I bend my 3 middle fingers towards my palm, with my thumb and pinky sticking out like a crab's claws. Super Crabby doubles both as a tickle-machine and a hand-puppet who talks in a silly falsetto voice. We were having the best time tickling, being silly, and performing Festivus "feats of strength" (thumb wrestling) on the bed. And, it was 11 o'clock in the morning and I hadn't even showered yet.
Then, the phone rings. I almost didn't pick up. I saw who it was, really wanted to get in the shower and call them back later, but then I decided to be nice. It was my husband's cousin, letting us know his uncle had passed away last night. I didn't know what to say, the news stunned me, and thus there were long awkward silences over the phone that made the situation at hand even more awkward.
He died peacefully. He lived a long life (I believe he was in his early 80s). What I remember the most about the man is he was real people. He had a lot of money, but lived in a small 2-br house in East Peoria, IL. He worked for Caterpillar all his life. He gave to others, like most in his generation did, because it was the right thing to do, not because he would receive something in return. I think that his daughter and grandchildren used him for money, but he never complained or acted like he cared about their motives, even though he was perfectly well aware of them. He and I both went south to do Katrina cleanup at roughly the same time, and we shared experiences and photographs. He was the one and only relative close enough to visit, and he always had some comfort food like chicken and dumplings for us in the crockpot when we arrived. He gave up his own bed for the night so we could have it, and he slept on an Army cot in the living room.
Anyway, RIP Uncle. You will be sorely missed.
We were playing a game called "Super Crabby", where I bend my 3 middle fingers towards my palm, with my thumb and pinky sticking out like a crab's claws. Super Crabby doubles both as a tickle-machine and a hand-puppet who talks in a silly falsetto voice. We were having the best time tickling, being silly, and performing Festivus "feats of strength" (thumb wrestling) on the bed. And, it was 11 o'clock in the morning and I hadn't even showered yet.
Then, the phone rings. I almost didn't pick up. I saw who it was, really wanted to get in the shower and call them back later, but then I decided to be nice. It was my husband's cousin, letting us know his uncle had passed away last night. I didn't know what to say, the news stunned me, and thus there were long awkward silences over the phone that made the situation at hand even more awkward.
He died peacefully. He lived a long life (I believe he was in his early 80s). What I remember the most about the man is he was real people. He had a lot of money, but lived in a small 2-br house in East Peoria, IL. He worked for Caterpillar all his life. He gave to others, like most in his generation did, because it was the right thing to do, not because he would receive something in return. I think that his daughter and grandchildren used him for money, but he never complained or acted like he cared about their motives, even though he was perfectly well aware of them. He and I both went south to do Katrina cleanup at roughly the same time, and we shared experiences and photographs. He was the one and only relative close enough to visit, and he always had some comfort food like chicken and dumplings for us in the crockpot when we arrived. He gave up his own bed for the night so we could have it, and he slept on an Army cot in the living room.
Anyway, RIP Uncle. You will be sorely missed.
