My uncle died this morning. It was my mom’s brother.
He was the uncle who encouraged me to read books, write, go into theatre, and move to New York. When I graduated high school, he took me to a book store and told me to pick out whatever I wanted. And then he added other books he felt I should read. He was also the person who suggested that I get a subscription to The New Yorker. You could talk to him about anything because he seemed to know a little about everything.
I have reached the age when I can now full appreciate the gifts God has given me, and for some reason, God feels compelled to take them all back.
But my uncle was a priest, so I bet he’d tell me to go easy on God.
Because no one really leaves you if you love them.
And I know he loved me.
