My Great Uncle

When my mother called out to say that he was dead, it is very embarrassing to say that my second thought was relief. It's only a short time, but I can not deal with the painful people and machine ideas to make sure they do not go to better places. When all his children and some large families appeared and said their good, eventually it ended. In the past few years, his health was amazing. I would like to help one hand at the ranch in one minute and another to wear khaki pants and peel the polo shirt of the thick golf needle into the hole.

Two weeks ago in my hometown of southwestern Pennsylvania, my father and I seem to enter my uncle's house to see if we want to ask something before we solve the house at the end of the year and sell it Begged. My uncle is not dead but is trapped in the world between spiritual death and physical death and is no longer extinguished. breathe. In his house, he is sharper than him, it is a kind of strangeness and sorrow, and his meticulous organization in the cellar studios is like a ghost you want to find. Every item in the house is marked with a black Sharpie - what it is and where it comes from. Each drawer in the office and bedroom is decorated with the content described by the white paper and Sharpied. A lot of Sharpies are stacked on the kitchen counter, and permanent ink is never used.

As I grow up, my family spends the majority of Sundays at my grandparents' house in Morristown, New Jersey. There is an apartment on the second floor in the house, my uncle and my aunt live here. Almost every week my uncle takes us to a forest beyond the street for hiking and some outdoor activities - I thought that it was always me to take some children out of everyone's hair, but hiking and Go out and my uncle knows this. Right across the house there is a rock wall, forming the edge of the road, representing the boundary of the grove that I thought was forest at that time. In this respect, the rock wall may not be higher than 6 to 10 feet, but it seems to be three times the memory of my childhood.

My mother values ​​my grandfather and my uncle very much. But I remember saying she likes my uncle when she worries and wants to talk to someone. She told me he was more willing to talk to them and talk about their feelings. She felt it was very troublesome to talk to her grandfather about her challenge. He does not seem to want to admit the situation. She feels a bit disobedient: everything works fine and everyone is amazing