My great aunt called me last night. The hospital told her they were sending her husband (my great uncle) home on Christmas day.
This isn’t good news. He has been given a week to live, maybe less.
He has heart disease. He went in because of his second stroke. He has dementia, tbd, tmi, whatever they call it. He had two heart attacks during this visit. In a moment of lucidity, he asked to come home. My great aunt insisted with the doctors. So, home it is. Home to die.
While on the phone, I made sure to remind her how loved they both are. We prayed (Christians). We talked about some of the past oh so cool things he did. And how he was basically just a good man, a good husband, a good father, a good soul, for his his wonderful life that is ending much too soon at the young age of only 82 years.
So, while most of the her little neighborhood will be celebrating one of the high points of life, we will be preparing to bury a cherished friend.
He loved building. Seems to run in my family. (Even tho he’s not the blood relation, she is, it still counts to me.) And he made wooden toys for all his kids, grandkids, nephews, nieces, etc… and then when we all grew up, he didn’t stop. Like an addiction, he had to make toys as a hobby. And give them away as an outward sign of his love of life.
It’ll be so weird tomorrow. Outside, children will be laughing and playing. In their house, it will still be filled with love, but also with a very great sadness.
God be with you, Uncle Eldon.