As I write this, I am waiting for news of my uncle’s death. My mother’s eldest brother, unconscious now, and dying all this week. This is the end of a long life, blessed with a loving partnership and children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and good work to do, and achievement and recognition in his field. His family has gathered around him to keep vigil, grieving, and mourning for the end of a long life well lived. This is no tragedy, but it is sad. It has been a long week, waiting, but so much longer for my mother and her still living sister and brother, and for my uncle’s lovely wife, and my cousins. Just waiting, and being.
I was singing with my choir last weekend, and this is one of the songs we sang. I just about lost it about half way through, but I gathered myself together, and carried on, as he would have done. Just carried on, and in the carrying on, come to resolution.
My uncle loved single malt whisky. I have laid some in, to drink in memory of him as his spirit takes leave of us.
Update: About half an hour after I posted this last night, I heard from my mother that my uncle had died, very quietly and peacefully, with his family gathered around him.