4:12 p.m.
last saturday i woke up crying from a long nightmare involving the slow death of my mother. I spent the day talking myself out of a feeling of dread, so I was not at all surprised when my father left me a message telling me to call him or my brother immediately. as I dialed his number, I knew someone had died and I forced myself to breathe as I waited to hear who it was.

my uncle. my uncle who we all adored. crippled by rheumatoid arthritis for the last decade and still the life of every party. As soon as our little fingers could hold cards, he presided over epic games of rummy and cribbage. "Come on, baby," he'd implore the card gods, sitting in his undershirt at the kitchen table, the king of his little world.

i spent the night heartbroken in new orleans and couldn't face it alone. I flew to montreal for the funeral, where I was plunged into the overwhelming clamour of my family in full force. Oh, I just love them. At one point during the wake, I stopped to absorb the chaos of fifty-something people to whom I am related by blood or marriage, many with beers in their hands, shouting their opinions at each other.

my father gave a eulogy and led the church-full of people in "when the saints go marching in" for my jazz-loving uncle. my aunt, facing the world without her husband of 57 years, described how he died in her arms and we all felt that this was exactly what he would have wanted. That didn't really make it easier, but it helped.

our family is one of the most important constants in my life and i have always struggled to find a balance between my commitments to them and my need to find my own place in the world. he always made that seem simple. to him, it was obvious that family is everything.

i will miss him.

2008-09-29

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