Uncle Ernie

My great uncle, Uncle Ernie, is probably on his death bed right now. He collapsed this week and has been unconscious with Cheyne Stokes breathing. Not a very good sign. He is 100 years old.

My mom called to let me know. I think she’s in a little bit of denial about it.

“Why does this always happen to that side of the family?” she said.

I didn’t point out that death pretty much happens to both sides of the family, sooner or later.

My mom told me that when she was a very little girl and went to go visit her grandparents with her father and mother, she remembered the rustle and bustle as all of the teenage uncles thundered down the stairs to see their married brother and his family. Uncle Ernie was one of those teenage uncles. Mama says he played with her, but he also teased her a little bit. Up until last year, he always called her on her birthday to wish her a Happy Birthday. I know she will miss that call a lot.

My first remembrance of Uncle Ernie was the summer we stayed at his farm house with him and Aunt Fern. It was a beautiful home in the middle of the country, with his brother’s farm close by. I remember Aunt Fern’s delicious, sweet-smelling home made pie. I remember all of the wind chimes all over the outside of the home and how I loved that sound! Which is why as an adult I have always had a wind chime or two at my own home. That summer Uncle Ernie taught my sister and me how to play croquet. We played a lot that summer.

My sister reminded me that once Uncle Ernie is gone, our last earthly look at our grandpa’s face will go with him. All of his brothers looked very similar, but I think Uncle Ernie looked the most like my grandpa. I had e-mails from Uncle Ernie’s daughter a while back. She said that he asks about his brothers when she visits, and she has to tell him that they’re gone. And he mourns for them all over again.

When they get together again, that will be some reunion! That thought cheers me. I don’t know how nonbelievers get through times like this.

When Gabe was born, I named him Gabriel Ernest after Uncle Ernie. My Uncle was very happy about that. Three of my sons are named for those brothers.

So it’s kind of a sad day. I know there will be a phone call from my mom sometime soon giving me the bad news. I’ll be sad for her, and sad for us. But still grateful to have had the chance to know such a good man. Please keep him in your prayers.

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