When I woke up today it was raining. I don’t remember the last day that happened. Tears of God. Uncle Gil died this morning.
I did go to see him on Friday. And I did cry. And it was wonderful. When I walked into his room he said my name. I took his hand and told him I loved him. He squeezed it and told me he loved me too. It was hard to understand, but I knew what he was saying. We held hands until he fell asleep. It hurt to watch him trying so hard to breath. He was drowning in the fluid on his lungs.
When mum and dad and I got up to leave, he woke up. He asked us if we had come to say goodnight to him. And we had.
He hung on until this morning, which is kind of incredible. But now, although he’s gone and it hurts, it’s a relief. He didn’t want to be here any more.
I may not believe in God, but Uncle Gil did. And right now, that’s a comfort to me.
Goodnight Uncle Gil. I love you.