MARCH 18, 2008
A rough few weeks on many fronts, which is why my attempt to defeat writer's block via haiku never got off the ground, but the nuisances with work, looking for an apartment, adverse reactions to meds, etc, don't matter much now.
Awhile ago, Ross' uncle Ole - Ross' dad's twin brother - was diagnosed with cancer and this weekend Ross' parents called to say that Ole had taken a turn for the worse and didn't have much time left. Suffice to say that's a call you're never prepared for, especially since doctors thought there was a chance Ole could be saved, so when we heard he was near death we were blindsided by it.
So today I drove Ross to the airport at 6am and put him on a flight to Montana so that he could see uncle Ole one last time and be with his family. And this evening, when I was out taking my walk, Ross called to say that uncle Ole died tonight but, thankfully, Ross got there in time. Ross said Ole wasn't conscious during his visit but he was glad he had a chance to see him and was thankful he could be there for his parents, especially his dad, when the time came.
So it's a sad and difficult night, and it feels awful to be away from Ross right now, but I'm comforted by the fact that Ross said that, along with the grief and sadness, his family also feels a sense of relief being that Ole was extremely ill, wasn't going to get better, and had to be heavily medicated all the time, so the fact that Ole's suffering is over and he's now at peace is a comfort to everyone.
So rather than wax melancholic tonight, I will instead say godspeed, uncle Ole, and smile at the memory of meeting him for the first time, where Ole grinned from ear to ear and warmly shook my hand. And as I stood there gawking at the towering twins (Ross' dad is 6' 6" and Ole was 6'7") Ole winked and said, "I'm the handsome one, that's how you can tell us apart," at which point Ross' dad rolled his eyes and said, "don't mind him, he's the ill-mannered one," and then they both chuckled like a pair of mischievous boys.
That's the way I'll remember uncle Ole, chuckling and playful, and I have no doubt that if there is a heaven or some sort of after life, Ole is already cracking jokes and making people smile, and always will be.
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