My Uncle
John is my mom’s baby brother, the youngest and last survivor of the siblings,
at 76 years old. John is mentally
disabled, and although I’ve known him well my whole life, it’s a new challenge
to help him through the final and reflective aging phase of his life. Every now and then John will say, “I really
miss mother and dad and my brother and sisters.” And I always reply, “I know, John. I do
too. And I think of them together in
Heaven, laughing their asses off, and Grandpa’s looking all embarrassed and
shaking his head because someone said something that was really inappropriate.” John always laughs at that, because he knows
what I mean, and it gives him comfort,too.
