Today we buried my uncle Frank. He was the last of my uncles standing, and I’ve always been tremendously fond of him. He had a good word for me, anytime I saw him, in his booming baritone voice. I admired his directness and the enjoyment he seemed to take in the everyday. Back when I was a kid, our extended family of cousins, uncles and aunts were pretty close. Over the years, as the kids all grew up, had new families, had careers, moved here and there, I saw less and less of uncles, aunts and cousins. I was busy having my own adventures and didn’t see what I was missing.

For several years Uncle Frank and Aunt Stella vacationed with my parents. They went to all kinds of places, sharing their love of travel. With the four of them together, a party was guaranteed, no matter where they went. I’m really glad they took those trips and enjoyed their travels while all of them still had their good health. And of course, I heard the stories repeated dozens of time from my father. He would string several vacation stories together, joining them with a conjunction and a quick breath.

Although today’s gathering was on the occasion of the loss of someone we loved, I none-the-less enjoyed the opportunity to hang out with my cousins for a few hours, sharing a few stories, getting caught up, at least a little. There’s plenty of catching up to do. Uncle Frank for me will always be the Uncle Frank of my youth, robust, opinionated, good-hearted. He was a good man and we’ll miss him.