Yesterday, while I was home cleaning up the mess after a torrential downpour that left my street with a fast flowing river running through it, my Uncle Colin passed away.
It wasn't unexpected - he had been a very sick man for some time now. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year and given just a matter of months to live. I was lucky enough to be able to spend Christmas with him one last time before he passed away, and even in sickness he was the same friendly, chatty character who laughed a lot and loved his family openly.
Uncle Colin wasn't really even my Uncle - he was my Dad's Uncle, but he was more involved in our lives than my real Uncles ever have been. He and his wife have been there for all of our major life events - births, deaths, marriages - whatever happened, they were part of the family during it all. We spent Christmases and holidays together, and his familiar throaty laugh will always be prominent in my memories of those events.
Right now the news is too fresh for me to really feel anything about it, but already I know that I'll miss him and that it won't be the same at all those family events without him smiling and laughing along with the rest of us.
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