Damn You, Depeche Mode ...

A death in the family always triggers a flood of emotions. My Uncle Honey passed on Sunday, just minutes after his son walked into the hospital room. My Uncle Honey was like a grandfather to me. He and his wife, who I call Gramma Myrtie, lived in "the country" southwest of Little Rock. They are the perfect example of what good country air can do for longevity. Myrt makes the BEST pies, and Uncle Honey was the reason I could never eat a meringue as it was he who convinced me at an impressionable age that the fluffy white stuff was nothing but cow cud. Thanks, Uncle Honey. My heart goes out to Gramma Myrtie.

Memories of July 4th fireworks out in their field and "shooting pool" with Jeannie in their basement come to mind. All the good feelings from those times return. Feelings like that are, of course, followed by sadness that Uncle Honey won't be around to give us his words of wisdom. He was everything I could imagine growing up with a grandfather could be like. Extended family was always a mysterious concept to me. All my other blood relatives, except for an aunt and uncle in Chicago, were in the Philippines. Close friends of the family always stepped in to fill those roles in my life, and Uncle Honey was all I knew of a grandfather. He will be missed, that's for sure.

It's hard not to think about his last moments. He had to have been hanging on, just long enough to get a good glimpse of his son to say farewell. Good god, I know that this is my greatest fear. I wonder, if in my last moments, will I have someone to hang on for? Will there be a loving partner at my side, holding my hand through it all? Crap, what a horrible thought. Nevermind, I'm done thinking about that right now.

Depeche Mode is in my ears. The song "Somebody" off of which Album I can't remember is most appropriate at the moment.