Sunday, September 14, 2008

Stormy times

Once again Cape Town is being lashed by a storm. Our street is already partially under water. Thankfully, this one is not as bad as the last one. However, it seems so appropriate that the weather is so foul...

... the more details I learn about the manner in which my uncle died, the more tragic his death becomes. Had those he had been hiking with not been negligent in their care of him, he might well be alive today - no doubt in a critical condition, with an uncertain future, but alive.

I am so proud of my family; at the faith, courage, strength and wisdom they have shown in the face of this incredible tragedy. It is such an honour to call myself part of this family - and it makes me proud to carry their surname still (I kept my maiden surname when I married - that's another story though).

It still hasn't really hit me. It doesn't seem real to me. I keep thinking that he's going to walk into the room with that infectious smile and laugh of his - the way his whole face used to crinkle up when he smiled... and say "Hello, my girl! Howzit?"

My uncle had a habit of sticking his hands in the top of his pants (trousers) when he was relaxing on the couch and getting sleepy. The family used to tease him mercilessly about it, but he always took it with such grace. My brother, dad and I were joking this afternoon that when we go to the funeral, we're all going to have to sit with our hands in our pants.

Probably my favourite story of my uncle is how, when I was a little baby with terrible colic, he used to let me lie on his chest and I would fit between his chin and his belt. Often, he was the only one who could get me to calm down enough to sleep. The moment I was removed from his chest, I would start crying again, so he would often sit with me like that for hours. (My mother once confessed to me that to get me to stop crying she had, on one occasion, in tremendous desperation, considered throwing me out of the first story window... I'm grateful she didn't!)

Funny how hearing that story used to make me embarrassed, even though I loved it. Now, I'd give anything to hear him tell it again.

If his death has taught me one thing, it is the lesson I thought I had learnt through losing Zoe. Life is precious. Family is precious. Time is fleeting and tomorrow is no guarantee. Please - ring your family today and tell them you love them. They may be gone tomorrow.

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