The last two weeks have been a whirlwind since my uncle died from cancer. He had been living with us for the last several months.
I had grown used to his presence. I never expected that he would one day disappear. I'm the kind of person who accepts things as they are, but when forced to face reality, I've no choice but to fold.
It's easy for me to distance myself from most things, but seeing the coffin and carrying it -- I was a pallbearer -- was overwhelming. The most affecting part of the funeral was seeing my family, normally stoic and easygoing, crack under grief -- especially my dad. I've never seen my dad sad before, and seeing it realized the full brunt of our loss. He had lost a brother.
Seeing the coffin sealed and buried was the moment I broke. A burial is not for the sake of the deceased, but to elicit suppressed feelings of grief -- catharsis.
My uncle knew what was coming since he outlived his prognosis by six months. He had everything arranged beforehand. His portrait was taken months ago and he selected his own burial plot.
Learning about this comforted me. Although his passing felt sudden, he was always ready, and he was able to spend his final days with his family, including my niece. That's more than most people get before they die.
I'm glad I was able to be a part of his life.
Farewell, uncle.
