Uncle Danny

Thanksgiving.  Such a big word.  What flood of memories washes into your head as you hear it?  Warm fire. Smell of the turkey cooking.  Laughter.  Football.  Snowflakes.  Family.  Friends.  Being thankful.  I suppose I am getting older.  Well, I dare say I am not just supposing anymore.  I am getting older.  And life seems to take on new meaning as you get older.  You appreciate things more, or should I say you appreciate people more.  I honestly can tell you that I have at one point or another dreaded the continuous trips back to MI to be with our family for the holidays.  Not because I don't want to be with them in any way shape form.  But the hours in the car.  Dreadful at times.  I love the time with my girls, but it just isn't fun.  But I digress.  This year, my Uncle Danny passed away, and the funeral was Saturday.  Friday at the funeral home.  And I was deeply convicted on really living Thanksgiving.  Giving of thanks.  For each moment I have here.  For each person I am privileged to know.  Have as a friend.  Have in my family.  And I spent time thanking God for that this weekend.  Danny had Alzheimer's, and spent the last several years in an assisted living home.  I couldn't help but revisit my mom's funeral, her death, the decline.  And I almost felt shame that I had never went to visit Uncle Danny.  My memories of him are every one filled with the love he had for others.  Be it his wife, his children, nephews, nieces, neighbors, friends.  Love.  You could see it when you looked at his face.  You could hear it in his voice.  You knew that he loved you - and most of the time no matter what you were doing.  I remember as a kid going to visit them in Garden City.  It was quite a drive from where I grew up, but I have only fond memories of each trip.  Each moment we were there.  And the joy of their family.  I empathized with my cousins - each of which I indeed love deeply.  How difficult it must have been for them to know their dad could not retrieve the fond memories of life.  How challenging to watch your father lose some sense of reality.  But hope.  Hope endures.  I had somewhat of a vision when my mom died - felt like she wanted me to tell my dad something.  I felt like I had a vision of my Uncle Danny this week.  That he was entering heaven.  And that he was telling me 'I remember everything.' with a smile on his face.  You know when someone is looking at something so beautiful they can't even break the view of it to look at you when they say something?  That was it.  And then he told me 'It's beautiful'.  I don't know why I get these visions, but it certainly grows my hope.  Hope.  I pray for my cousins.  MRTSD.  That each of them would have the hope of our savior.  And they would never forget the love their father of this earth had for them, and never forget the love their heavenly father pours out for each of them.   

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