Right when we got off the plane my uncle picked up my parents and I from the airport and we headed to Uncle Don's wake. It's heartwarming to see how many people were excited to see my dad fly in "all the way from California". The entire neighborhood showed up for Uncle Don and like Mr. Atkinson said (twice, he's 87 with bad memory)"Blondo (Uncle Don) was just like my wife; he had no enemies. Now he will get to see her Upstairs."
Mr. Atkinson was a very kind man that lived in Willow Grove. My dad would often go to his house for dinner because of its 24/7 abundance of food; him and his wife had plenty of kids and mouths to feed. He truly loved his wife right til the very end. You can still feel how much he loves her to this day; the topic of his repetitive stories due to his bad memory often revolve around her. Two years ago, before she passed he told me how they met and he said, "Darling, how old are you now? 21?" (She was really 70-something)
Uncle Don was an amazing guy.He was in the Peace Corps and went to Thailand for 2 years which was how he met my uncle and dad. Back in Willow Grove his house was the kick-it spot; every kid in the neighborhood could be found at his house. Dad and his old friends shared stories of hosing down the bridge across the street and watching speeding cars slip and slide, making homemade bottle bombs which exploded and shattered every window of Uncle Don's garage...
I only just saw him like, 3 years ago and he was healthy as a horse. Time flies...tomorrow is his actual funeral and I hope I don't cry. I've become such a weeper!
No comments:
Post a Comment