Departure from Normal

My uncle Mel found out in April that he had cancer. On Sunday, May 30, we were called and told to come to South Dakota for his last hours. He passed away at 8:30 that night, a mere 6 hours after we got there. I sat, with my myriad of relatives, remembering, talking and waiting. I’ve never lived for such a long time. The worst wasn’t knowing that he was going to die, it was waiting for it. The type of cancer was harsh and unforgiving to a man who lived healthier than most I know. And as I sat, waiting, I couldn’t help but think of how Mel had just retired, with his wife to do so also in two months. The unfairness of it screamed its protests to all who listened. All the savings, all the planning was for naught. In a cruel trick, everything that they had waited for was gone. But Mel left something large than himself. Brothers and sisters were drawn together, for both laughter and tears. Future plans are becoming present plans. And what truly matters has been thrust forward with all that is petty behind it. I’m going to miss Mel. But I was able to say good-bye the way that I wanted to. And I’m starting to get my priorities in order. Life is much more than doing what you have to. It’s about doing what you enjoy. Every day, not just at the end.