As I sat in the funeral home today, my arm draped around Ciera and Ang one chair away, I listened to the minister talk about my Uncle Ed and wondered how in the world had the last 39 years gone by so fast?
My first memories of my Uncle are him smoking his pipe at my Grandparents house when I was around 6 and everyone I knew and loved was still with us.
Flash forward 33 years and I've got 3 kids of my own, both sets of my Grandparents are gone and today marked the 2nd Uncle in the past 2 years that I've seen buried.
Meanwhile, I blissfully go along living my life and raising my kids and trying not to think about the mortality of my parents, siblings, spouse, and children while I rage against the machine at the Yankees, people who drive too slow in the fast lane, and why every channel on tv has to got to commercial break at the exact same time, leaving me flipping through 300+ channels in less than a minute while my blood pressure surges toward Defcon 5.
Yes, I realize I'm rambling. A funeral, lunch consisting of Chili from Wendy's and supper from Long John Silver's combined with Rakes and Trot having a "who can talk the loudest" marathon from 6-8:30 usually will do the trick.
But funerals tend to get me thinking, and for some reason during today's service I imagined what would be said at mine.
I came up with the following.
He loved his family and adored the woman he married. He loved his children so much it hurt sometimes. He loved his friends, his Red Sox, and he tried to do the right thing at all times.
Maybe someday I'll do something great like help find the cure for cancer or end racial strife or figure out a way to find a decent parking spot at the mall without blowing my stack but I sort of doubt it.
And if I don't do anything earth shattering in the next 40 years and the best they can say about me is 2 paragraphs above?
I can live with that.
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