Not going to be a good weekend

Liz's uncle passed away this morning. When I saw the text message from Liz my first reaction was to snap my phone closed. I don't know why. I'm not extremely close to her uncle, and the signs were very clear that he was fading and fast, but it was still shocking somehow. I snapped my phone closed as if that would delete the text message, but having already seen it deletion is irrelevant. Liz's uncle was in his 90s and until the last week or so was still living with his wife and their son in his son's condo. He was admitted to hospital, briefly moved into an assisted living center for a few days, and then was transferred back to the hospital where he spent his last few days.

By comparison my father spent a few days in hospital then was sent home where he died about five days later, in his own bed, with my mother and my sister by his side. I'd rather go out like that. I'd hate to be lying in a hospital bed, knowing I was dying, seeing my family for a few hours each day and when I said goodbye to them each night have no idea if that would be the last time we'd see each other.

Here, it was probably better for Uncle to pass away in the hospital. Likewise in Australia, except in Dad's case a palliative care nurse had just visited less than 30 minutes prior to him passing away, and because of that the police didn't need to be involved, there was no need for an autopsy, etc.

I suspect that sometime this weekend we'll be attending Uncle's funeral. It's sad because another aunty and a cousin are flying in from Chicago and New Jersey tonight. Like me with Dad, they also never got to say goodbye to Uncle.

The blessings we can count are that Uncle lasted this long, so even though his presence was missed at Thanksgiving dinner we were still able to celebrate. On a personal, somewhat selfish level, I'm glad that this year's family Christmas get-together (traditionally held on Christmas Eve) was changed from dinner to breakfast. With Christmas Eve being a Monday I have to work, so I won't be attending this year's get-together, meaning while the rest of the family has to contend with the hole left behind by Uncle, I can sit at my desk, bury myself in my work, and pretend that all is still right with the world. It's not that Uncle's death affects me so much, it's that I'd rather not have to witness the effect it's having on everyone else, especially Aunty. Ignorance is bliss, and this is one weekend I'll be glad to get behind me.