for as long as i can remember, my sunday afternoons
looked something like this:
my mom, aunt, grandmother and uncles hanging out in the kitchen,
gossiping and drinking coffee while my sisters, brother and visiting
cousins ran around playing all sorts of games, occasionally throwing a
paper airplane into the room asking one of the "adults" to take us
shopping, or to serve as a judge in a dance competition,
or audience to one of our many plays.
days like those were once so typical, so predictable, so reliably
regular that i never realized how special they were until i
grew up and lost many of the beloved family members
that made those times so much fun.
this weekend, my favorite uncle passed away,
leaving a big hole in our hearts that could only be filled
with his loving presence, his terrific sense of humor, and his
delicious cooking. my unckie made even the most ordinary of days
into something extraordinary, and i am so sad that henry will
not get to know just how "great" his great uncle was.
"there is little to remember of anyone- an anecdote, a conversation at table.
but every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance,
written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh,
and the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we
always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with
dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep
us waiting so long."
~marilynne robinson, housekeeping