Tuesday, June 07, 2005


My grandmother died last night. She passed away in her sleep. 91 years old.

Once I heard the news, I did everything I could last night -- arranged a few things and made lots of calls, mostly leaving messages. I told my mom in person, and she handled it well.

When I got back home, I couldn't sleep, so I dug out some old photos of Grandma... I was gonna write a little about her... but finally got tired again and went to bed.

Then about an hour ago, my sister finally got back to me -- our uncle died this morning. He was 73.

My mother's mother and my father's brother.

We're all sad, but not devastated. Both of these things were expected. Grandma was in and out of the hospital all year, and in the last few months became extremely frail. Even when I talked to her last weekend, though she sounded fine, she alluded to being ready to go.

And my uncle had lymphoma, like his father, his oldest brother and younger sister. Though my aunt survived the chemo, it wasn't working for him, and it was only a matter of time. We knew this -- my sister was back east to see him one last time.

I had seen my uncle a couple of years ago; he stayed with me when he was in town for my dad's headstone unveiling. The similarities between the two brothers was uncanny -- loud, funny Bronx boys with tremendous hands. I couldn't find a picture of my uncle, so I hope it's not too weird to show this one of Dad and Grandma, from about 20 years ago.

upstny copy


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