The hours in between...

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My uncle passed away early this morning.  Despite the tremendous efforts of a small team of surgeons to correct my uncle's serious heart ailments, after 16+ hours of surgical and recovery effort, his heart was just too weak and his body began to shut down.

 

 

My uncle and his family knew the risks.  The surgical plan had been debated over by his doctors for months.  He was not new to open-heart surgery - he had been through it before more than once.  His cardiologist thought it was too risky - too many intricate tasks had to been completed - the surgery would be a marathon - and it wasn't guaranteed to be successful.  Yet.  If he didn't have the surgery, his heart would give out..sooner rather than later.  So my cousins flew in and spent the weekend with their parents, enjoying their time together - all the while knowing that it could potentially be the last time.

 

 

And sadly, it was.  My aunt has managed to hold it together amazingly well, and there will be a Celebration of Life just a few days before Christmas - when the rest of the family was scheduled to arrive anyway. 

 

 

My dad is the oldest of seven kids, and my uncle (his only brother), was second oldest.  They were about two years apart and very close.  I imagine that they were a force to be reckoned with when they were young.  My grandma always kept their senior portraits on her dressing table, and - at that age, they were hard to tell apart!  I often look at my youngest two, Owen and Colin, and think of my dad and uncle Buzz - two little towheads that were often naughty.  My uncle was quiet and very kind.  He had the best-looking lawn around, and he would mow it often with his John Deere.  I can remember getting a ride or two around the yard when I was little.  He was also a bit of a prankster - along with my dad.  I can remember coming to visit my aunt and uncle one evening several years ago, as they were camping for a week at a nearby lake.  My dad was visiting too, and they surreptitiously slipped in a length of copper pipe with a cut piece of garden hose inside in amongst the logs.  Soon enough, green, purple and pink flames appeared.  I thought I was seeing things.  They told me I was - all they could see was a regular orangy/red campfire.  It took several minutes of arguing/laughing/grinning before they gave it up and shared their secret.  I can remember the smiles on both my dad's and uncle Buzz's faces - they were like teenage boys again.

 

It has been about 14 hours since I got the 2 am phone call that uncle Buzz was gone.  All morning and afternoon I've been thinking strange thoughts...

 

* It was only 'x' hours ago that he was still alive...

 

* I wonder what initially happens to their spirit when they leave?  I am of no firm belief in anything particular about the afterlife.. but I am curious.

 

* Was he aware at all of what was happening?

 

I had these same thoughts when both of my grandmas passed away last year.  Those first few hours in between when you hear the news and when you reach acceptance that the loved one is gone are a strange time indeed.  It feels insensitive, but I guess it is one's way of dealing with news they are unprepared to hear? 

 

 

Hug your loved ones tonight... and make all of your days count.