Monday, Monday
*Ugh*
and that about sums it up. This weekend was particularly hard. I had to take off work Friday so that I could get back home and to a funeral. I abhor funerals. I mean it's really not the whole issue with death or loss or the memento mori that situations like this supposedly brews in everybody. The really bothersome part for me is being enshrouded with sadness -- It makes me melancholy quicker than anything.
My Uncle Melvin died on Wednesday of last week. I didn't even find out until Thursday evening. My mother has this super way of failing to relay bad news to me. When I confronted her on the issue a few years back, she just said that she didn't want to upset me, especially because I was far away with no family around to comfort me -- but seriously, I missed my Great Aunt' funeral because I didn't find out she was dead until a month afterwards! Boy, was I pissed about that one.
rrr...I'm getting off topic.
Melvin Compton. What kind of words can describe a person? a soul? I'm not sure. I had seen my uncle about a month before his passing. He was telling me about his garden and how far along it had already gotten. He had promised that if I stopped by before I left home that he would give me some of the fruits of his labors - namely a bag filled with cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and the green onions that I love so much. It was two weeks ago, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, that he had a minor heart attack. He was working the land that he loved so much when he started to become weak and dizzy. Later, after a similar spell, he recounted to the doctors that he had laid down in the row of beans for over an hour -- trying to get strength back to go into the house and rest a while. And it was while the physicians were running tests on his heart, my uncle had a major heart attack that lead to his eventual death. He was 78 years old.
I really think that Melvin got to go in a way that he would have approved of. He remained healthy and active all the way through the very end of his life. He was never bedridden, or hooked up to the gamut of life sustaining machines in hospitals today (something that he had to watch his wife endeavor through for the last two years of her life.) And the love of his life, Aunt Marie had gone on for nearly a year and a half now. A father. A brother. A loving husband.
I know that I shall miss him.
. . . . . . . . .
*Ugh*
and that about sums it up. This weekend was particularly hard. I had to take off work Friday so that I could get back home and to a funeral. I abhor funerals. I mean it's really not the whole issue with death or loss or the memento mori that situations like this supposedly brews in everybody. The really bothersome part for me is being enshrouded with sadness -- It makes me melancholy quicker than anything.
My Uncle Melvin died on Wednesday of last week. I didn't even find out until Thursday evening. My mother has this super way of failing to relay bad news to me. When I confronted her on the issue a few years back, she just said that she didn't want to upset me, especially because I was far away with no family around to comfort me -- but seriously, I missed my Great Aunt' funeral because I didn't find out she was dead until a month afterwards! Boy, was I pissed about that one.
rrr...I'm getting off topic.
Melvin Compton. What kind of words can describe a person? a soul? I'm not sure. I had seen my uncle about a month before his passing. He was telling me about his garden and how far along it had already gotten. He had promised that if I stopped by before I left home that he would give me some of the fruits of his labors - namely a bag filled with cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and the green onions that I love so much. It was two weeks ago, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, that he had a minor heart attack. He was working the land that he loved so much when he started to become weak and dizzy. Later, after a similar spell, he recounted to the doctors that he had laid down in the row of beans for over an hour -- trying to get strength back to go into the house and rest a while. And it was while the physicians were running tests on his heart, my uncle had a major heart attack that lead to his eventual death. He was 78 years old.
I really think that Melvin got to go in a way that he would have approved of. He remained healthy and active all the way through the very end of his life. He was never bedridden, or hooked up to the gamut of life sustaining machines in hospitals today (something that he had to watch his wife endeavor through for the last two years of her life.) And the love of his life, Aunt Marie had gone on for nearly a year and a half now. A father. A brother. A loving husband.
I know that I shall miss him.
. . . . . . . . .
posted by taliendo at
3:59 PM
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