Remembering Uncle Irwin

We received the sad news this evening that Amy's uncle passed away.  Uncle Irwin had filled in as a kind of father figure for Amy and her brothers and sisters, along with his wife, Aunt Elaine, especially after Amy's mother passed away almost 30 years ago.  They lived in Syracuse for many years, but finally settled in Greater Boston the last couple of years, along with their own kids/grandkids, who moved up here just before them from Long Island.  So it was nice for us to get to see them more often - they made a point of spending time with us, in spite of their age and limited mobility - and we saw them at a barbecue at their son's house less than two weeks ago.

Daniel had already figured out what had happened from a bit of second-hand telephony, as children manage so well, but I had a few words with him about his uncle just before tucking him into bed.  Among other things, I told him about something that happened one of the times when we were visiting them in Syracuse, while we were at the zoo.  (Uncle Irwin took me and the kids to the Syracuse Zoo more than once, like Grandpa's special treat, as Amy and her Aunt had girl-time at their house).  I told Daniel that he had actually been acting up that day - if such a thing can be imagined - and Uncle Irwin stepped in and corrected him.  Daniel became the injured puppy-dog, as usual, after being spoken-to, but Uncle Irwin, wanting to make sure that he understood the bigger picture, said, "Daniel, I love you."  Daniel looked up at him with a touch of surprise, it seemed, and Uncle Irwin said, "It's true," in a way that one certainly couldn't doubt if you heard it.

I just wanted to leave Daniel with a few vignettes of his great-uncle, while the memory is fresh in his mind, since our pictures of relatives from childhood become much fainter as time passes.  I thought it might be nice to give the lad a few memories - even if they're ones that I re-packaged for him - to take into his life going forward.  Daniel is not a sentimental youngster, in day-to-day life, but as I finished telling him about his uncle, he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

I ran downstairs to get some water for him (salt-water to rinse/neutralize a canker before going to sleep) , and when I came back upstairs, he still looked upset, and said something like, "It's really sad to think that we saw him just a few days ago, and that he was still alive yesterday."

As simplistic as that might sound, Daniel has managed to say things exactly as they are, as is his wont.  Death is not so upsetting as an abstraction, something that happened to some president in some specific, to-be-memorized year in the 1800's, but it's quite another thing when it separates us from an uncle one we saw at a barbecue eleven days ago.  Especially when it's somebody who loved us, and made a point of saying so with both words and actions.

I'm very sorry about Uncle Irwin's passing.  But I'm glad that Daniel, at his tender age and with his tough constitution, can be so personal, himself, in his sadness at this moment.

(September 4, 2014)