Saying Goodbye

In January 2016, my uncle Kenny died. After several years of fighting Parkinson’s Disease, he lost that battle. It was a chilly winter day when I had the honor of placing this man to rest. From the years that he had raised me up as a child, it was with great humility that I set him down. As Vince Gill sang “Go Rest high on that mountain…”, I openly wept for that man. My aunt Donna kept a brave and happy face for the family, because we knew his hurt was over and he was with the Lord.
When I walked past him, Kenny looked as healthy as when I last saw him. The funeral home had done a great job on him. When it was our time, he was so very light. Part of that was surely the weight he had lost, but also the five other men that helped me carry his burden. He was laid to rest at the family plot on the hill, overlooking the Green River. If there was a slice of heaven on earth, that was it.
My biggest regret was that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know my uncle Ken knew I loved him. He was like a second father to me. We knew the end was near, but by the time we could make arrangements to try to drive down, it was too late. I had finished my last class of the day when my phone rang. It was my mother; numbness hit me, knowing what the call meant. He was gone.
This light was gone from the world. A proud Navy veteran, who couldn’t swim his first day in recruitment; he told us the story of jumping off the high dive and his CO telling him he swallowed all the water from Lake Michigan. He would play Duck Hunt and Contra  on the Nintendo with his nieces and nephews,  with a velvet painting of Willie Nelson on the wall. he was tough love and doggie bags of treats to take home. Even now I can hear that familiar chuckle.
Last night I had a dream. My fiance and I were getting married. It was a beautiful ceremony with black and gold flowers and decorations. As we said our “I Do’s” we turned to the assembled crowd, I saw my aunt Donna. But she wasn’t alone; right next to her was a heavyset man with a salt and pepper mustache in a black suit. Everything froze. All but the two of us.
“Is this real,” I asked him.
He rose up from his seat, “You already know that.”
My voice cracked from emotion on the next question, “Are you better now?”
He beamed with a light I had not seen in many years, “If I was doing any better, there’d be two of me.”  That was something Kenny would always say when things were going good.
Before I knew it, he was walking towards a great, black oak door. I wanted to say don’t go, but knew that is useless. Instead, I calmly said, “I miss you.”
Kenny turned and smiled at me. The crow's feet puckered at the corners of his eyes. “ I miss you too, bud.”A white light enveloped him and he was gone.

I woke up with tears in my eyes, but I smiled through it. I knew Uncle Ken was still with me; and in the end, I got to say goodbye.

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