I'm feeling that I should feel more sad about his death than I am but I think I'm choosing to think only happy or funny stuff. Like when my sis and I were kids and my dad would take us to our uncle's lot (he sold used cars) we'd park ourselves in the office on these leather chairs and raid the mints and Juicy Fruit gum that was always on hand. Or remembering the ever-present wine somewhere close by, heck, his eyes always seemed bloodshot to me but I found that amusing not sad. Remembering him chuckle when I accidentally touched the electric fence around the pens for the horses and cows.
I worry about my dad. Of the seven children, my father being the youngest, only three are left. Two had died before I was born, aunt Dora and uncle Gilbert (where I got my middle name.) Two have died now in recent years, uncle Louie and aunt Lupe. The remaining, aunts Matilda and Josie**, have had health problems of their own though I hear those reports may have been exaggerated in typical family-style drama. But still, with me living 300 miles away and my sister 2000+ miles away I worry about him worrying over us, and, him worry about us worrying over him. I should call him more often or at least not just on the holidays but he and I never really have had a close relationship. We get on the phone and just say a few things, then pass the phone on to someone else. Plus, I've always felt like a disappointment to him both of where I'm at career-wise (or rather where I'm not) and about being gay and not giving him grandkids. *sigh*
** Not the one here in town. Both my dad and mom have sisters named Josie.