My Angry Obit - Uncle Paul
So about a week ago I got a text from my dad that my Uncle Paul died. Just out of the blue – your Uncle Paul died today. While this would be distressing anyway so close after my grandma’s death, it was particularly distressing given that my Uncle Paul was my dad’s youngest brother – 11 years younger. He was 43 years old when he died, and we still don’t know why. I won’t pretend that I was as close to my uncle as I was to my grandmother; he was sort of awkwardly older than me in that way that as I was growing up he was in his late teens/early 20s and living his own life. I think he was barely a teenager when I was born, actually. So my memories of him are somewhat spotty, although I remember him at family functions, and he was always very nice and interested in what was going on in my life. I have vague memories of him playing with me as a baby, and there is a picture of him pushing me around in a diaper box as a toddler with me squealing in delight, and I do remember that. My dad sa...