My uncle passed away about a month or so ago. It was very unexpected, as he was fairly young. I think he was around mid to late 30’s, maybe early 40’s (him being the 2nd or 3rd youngest of a family of 9 with my Mom being the oldest)
He lived in Vancouver, and was a wonderful man. I hadn’t seen him in years (I haven’t seen most of those relatives in years because of the distance between where we all live) but I remember him as being very fun loving. He was a writer, published in some anthology or other. I remember him emailing us all about it. I also remember him emailing us once about the women he had met that he felt he could spend the rest of his life with. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out.
I would email him every so often, and talk about life. When I was stressed he taught me that bubble mix and a wand were one of the most soothing activities. It put things into perspective. Somewhere I have one of his writings. About growing up, and learning to accept and be mature. It touched me deeply and I have shared it with friends a few times. I plan to put it up on my website as a tribute to him.
Today, I was talking with Mom. She had mentioned that my aunt and uncle had flown from New Brunswick (uncle had a business trip, and aunt came along) out to Vancouver and went to the memorial his friends held for him. I wish I would have known about it, and maybe have been able to go. I realized then that I still didn’t know how he had died. Last we had talked about it was just after, and it was suspected he had had a heart attack.
She told me. He had committed suicide. I am assuming he took a bunch of pills, as he went in his sleep with no mark of violence on him. That is why we had suspected a heart attack. Apparently in going through his things, my relatives found notes. Not just a recent one, but ones that dated back to the 1980’s. I’m guessing he kept them tucked away, as a sort of reminder that he could move past that. I know that if I look back over my journals, when I have written them in paper, that I would find thoughts of such things.
But apparently he couldn’t take anymore. I was greatly saddened to learn that he had passed away. And even more saddened now that such a wonderful man could feel so alone that he did this. He is greatly missed by me, his mother, his 5 sisters and 2 brothers, and I hope those cousins of mine that did know him miss him as much as I do. I feel saddened knowing that my youngest cousins will never know him, as they have only come into this world recently.
I miss him, even though we were never extremely close. And I remember him fondly. I know now that he is in a better place, along with my Grandfather (his dad) who passed away almost 6 years ago.
A toast to my uncle. Who is missed dearly. May he be happy where he is.
Thank you for teaching me the joys of soap bubbles.
Duncan MacDonnell 2003
