A Meaning in Death?

autumn clouds

While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.  -Leonardo da Vinci

My Mom's uncle passed yesterday. I'm numb to the idea right now. Being my 'great uncle', most people would assume that it wouldn't effect me. But, death has an effect on me. At first I'm numb. Then I cry. Then I over analyze death.

I knew Uncle Vic. My fondest memories of him were when I was younger. My parents went on a business trip and left my brother and I with my Mom's parents. My grandparents were going to a wedding in Nashville, so we tagged along with my three cousins and two of my Mom's youngest cousins, one being my Uncle Vic's daughter. I was young to get drawn in by silly things- my Uncle Vic used to tease my brother and I about the 'snapper' as he liked to call it. He'd snap his fingers, but do it behind our backs so that it would startle or surprise it. He'd laugh, and do it again.

My Uncle Vic was vivacious. Originally from New York, he carried his accent with him to Georgia. Despite being in Georgia for so many years, his accent never changed. I love his accent. And the fact that he was shorter than most men and wore some of the craziest pants. They were the type of pants a mobster that wasn't into suits would wear in the eighties- the ones with the vast designs, full, and with pleats- so out of style for this decade, but so in style for Uncle Vic. I think some of my cousins used to make fun of his nose- he was Italian. Anyone who is Italian knows that they have a decent sized nose.

I knew him as my Uncle Vic. In some sense, he was as much an Uncle to me as he was to my Mom. Though I might not have the same amount of memories as my Mom, I still remember him quite vividly.

He was very sick when he died. He had to have dialysis on a weekly basis, and on the way home, he had to go to the bathroom. My Aunt Louise took him to the closest super market. My grandparents were at the supermarket. Louise helped him to the bathroom and he passed out. My grandfather tried to hold him up, tried to wake him up. But he died in my grandfather's arms.

Now I'm crying. I don't know if it's right to be upset. I don't really understand death, but I stick to my belief that everything happens for a reason- and that he's in a happier place, much healthier than he was here with us on earth. I'm not so sure what that place is. I don't know how I feel about a heaven or a hell, but I believe in an afterlife.

But I do believe...

The existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds. To watch the bird and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance. A lifetime is a flash of lightning in the sky. Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain. - Buddha (c. 563- c. 483 B.C.)