My uncle passed away late thursday night/early friday morning. He was 55.

I didn't know him that well. He was the uncle of legend more than the uncle of reality. He was the sometimes rich beyond imagining, sometimes poor beyond thought uncle. The business man.

He was the uncle who was always in and out of the hospital. Who in the eighties had kidney stones to the point that he was always getting them removed and it was no longer a big thing. The large man who ate more than the younger I could imagine a person eating. In the ninties he was the one who had continual health problems. Who, in the late ninties lost his sight and a leg to diabetes. The uncle whose kidneys didn't work.

He is responsible for one of the most hopegiving stories that I've heard. He went into a store when he'd lost his sight due to blood clotting. He dropped his money and bent down to get it. On the way up, he hit his head. It moved the blood clot and his sight came back. There can be hope.

In recent days he was sightless again. He had one false leg and spent days at dialysis. He lost a lot of weight and was defying the odds in terms of still surviving. He came down to visit my grandparents this summer, bringing one of his grandchildren. This, I believe, meant a lot to my grandparents, who talked about how good he was looking and how he'd steal raspberries from their raspberry bushes. He was the only one that could get away with that.

In December, Uncle John fell backwards down the stairs. He was in a coma for a while I believe. When he was consious, he was not himself. My grandparents went up to visit him, which is when they all became sick.

Thursday it was decided to take him off life support. He was toxic and could either live on life support or go without it. From what I can gather, he was active in this decision, as active as he could be. He passed away, as I said, late thursday/early friday.

The saddest thing is that I didn't know him. Distance can do that.

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