Uncle Jim’s funeral (part II)

I did not want them to worry about lunch, so I told them I was taking care of it. We decided on a restaurant around the corner that served good, home-cooked meals. Beth and I got several to-go boxes, and we had a nice lunch.

People would send a lot of food, so I told Beth I needed to clean out the fridge. She told me to throw out anything past the expiration date.

Beth jokingly said, “When you get to Heaven, he will get on to you about throwing out perfectly good food.”

Aunt June was cleaning and walked towards the foyer closet with his brown jacket. I took it and hung it up—it was probably the last jacket he wore. 

“Can I do anything else?” 

“You can vacuum.” 

Sigh.

I wanted to help but avoided getting in their way. They also needed time to grieve and be alone—a tricky balance.

    I was thinking of ways to help. Previously, I'd noticed tons of leaves on the back deck. So, the next day, I blew it off and tidied it.

Uncle Jim’s funeral (part I)

“Uncle Jim's Funeral” 

Uncle Jim, Paul's uncle, died of a sudden heart attack in the back bedroom of his home on December 5, 2012.

He loved to laugh—had a bald head and smiled continually. Uncle Jim loved music, sang in barbershop quartets, and loved to dance. He is like an uncle to me, so I call him Uncle Jim.

His doctor said he had a limited time left to live because of his heart—it could be a day or a year. This family knew it was coming but hoped it would be the latter.

I tried to remember and apply what I’ve learned about death. So, the following morning, after I took Ashton to school, I got Chick-fil-A for his wife, Aunt June, and their daughter, Beth. 

    Uncle Jim and Aunt June could not have children, so they adopted Beth and Kimberly. They are like cousins. Kimberly is quiet and reserved, with a love for interior design, while Beth is outgoing and loves the outdoors.

Their garage door was locked when I arrived, but I did not want to wake them, so I stayed outside awhile then went to the back door—Beth was in the kitchen. She thanked me for bringing breakfast. I gave Beth and Aunt June a good ole Glenn hug.

It is key to do whatever Aunt June wanted. 

“What would you like for me to do?” 

“Would you please finish decorating the Christmas tree?” 

Their family had been decorating the tree the night he died—it was meaningful to her as it was the last thing they'd been doing. Uncle Jim was tired and retreated to their back bedroom. Later, they found him on the small rug at the end of their bed—he had a heart attack.

They shared stories about a few ornaments as I put them on the tree. 

People would arrive soon, and boxes were strewn across the living room floor, so I tidied the room. Evelyn came, and we finished decorating the tree and house.