Death and Stuff

Just got home from work... and came back to an email from my mother telling me that my Uncle Morris passed away this morning.

This said Uncle Morris is - was - my grandmother's husband's brother. So he's actually of no relation seeing as said husband wasn't actually my grandfather, but he loved me just the same. When Pop-pop died, he left Uncle Morris money to spend on my sister and I. It went to school clothes when we were in High School and then paid for most of the college that we chose to go to.

So what I'm saying is that my Uncle paid for some-odd amount of the last four years of my college career (a hundred-something attempted credits and no degree to show for it), sent me money so that I could buy photo supplies and bought my first cameras (which, besides the Rolleiflex, are my two cameras that I use all the time and are oh-so-reliable). He never forgot a birthday or small holiday. He sent nice boxes of chocolate for no reason and jewelry for Valentines Day.

One time I sent him this long letter, being completely open and pretending he wasn't an 80-something year old man who was kindof-not-really related and described to him all about getting a piercing and what it meant to me and why I liked piercings and tattoos. I thought that maybe it was too much for a conservative man, but I decided not to care and to treat him like a person who loved me just because. He responded with a really lovely letter about a girl he met once "at a dance". I feel it was the only time that him and I really actually communicated.

I've been "trying" to write him a letter for about a week now.. and I feel guilty that I didn't make it.

I never sent him any of the photos I took.

I've never met him.

Rest in Peace, Uncle Morris... I hope you know that I've always thought about you, whether I wrote to you or not...