RIP

My Uncle Sonny died yesterday. He was 85 and a real character. He will definitely be missed.

Sonny had been suffering ill health for quite some time, and I know that his passing is a blessing - he's finally home and at peace. No more trouble breathing or getting around. No more coughing. No more just plain feeling bad. Just peace and love and acceptance. I know that my aunt and my grandmother were waiting for him.

But we'll miss his stories, and his laugh. When he was in high school, Sonny and some friends took apart a car and rebuilt it on top of a building - their school maybe? People woke up the next day to the sight of a car on a roof! My grandfather was not amused, but it was clearly worth it to Sonny.

Sonny was a mechanic during World War II. He worked on planes that flew into Germany - into enemy territory. He was actually in the planes during missions. If anything went wrong during flight, it was his job to get it fixed if he could so they wouldn't go down in enemy territory. No pressure. He also served in the Pacific theater. A few years ago, I went through a box I'd inherited from my grandmother, and I found some letters my uncle had written to her during the war from Japan. They were fascinating. I gave the originals to my cousin, his son, but I made color copies for myself first. What a life.

And it wasn't just his adventures that made up that life. Sonny and my Aunt Peggy were married for 56 years. They raised two kids, who raised kids of their own and are now greeting their own grandchildren. He's part of the fabric of my childhood - weekends and holidays spent at my grandmother's house always included Sonny and Peggy. I can still see him sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table, telling the story about when he jumped into a cold lake and jumped out so fast his wallet didn't even get wet. I must've heard it 100 times. I wish I could hear him tell it now. I wish I could sit next to him on the porch swing as he smoked his pipe. I loved how that pipe smelled. I wish I could feel his thin arms squeeze me tight with an energetic, "I love you, kid!" - boy could that man give a hug!

Sonny was loved by many. He was one of a kind. I'm glad I knew him. I'm glad I can claim him as one of my own. I'll miss you, Uncle Sonny. I love you, kid!