Sweetness and Sorrow

My Uncle Bob has passed away.  No nicknames here, as he truly was "Uncle Bob."  His wife, Aunt Eleanor, passed away a few years ago, and you could not have asked to meet two of the sweetest people on earth.  They just exuded kindness.  

Uncle Bob was actually Dads' uncle, making him my great uncle.  He was ninety-nine years old.  Imagine - ninety-nine!  This reveres up one of those discussions of "Can you imagine all that he saw in his years?"  He was alive for two world wars.  He experienced the entertainment industry grow from radio to television to hand-held devices.  Can we even fathom the changes that took place during his lifetime?  I had to have the kidlets explain to me how to turn off the Crackbox.  Uncle Bob saw the aviation industry go from the Wright Brother's short flight right near the time of his birth to the mighty Concorde to the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner.  And well into his nineties, Uncle Bob was flying down to the Florida Keys.  

When people pass away, we tend to forget who they were and simply remember what their personal relation was to us, the memories we have with them.  Uncle Bob would fill our times with his yard sale tales.  Oh, he always had a find to share, and would pass along something or other that he had come across.  The joy was in discovery, not so much the bargain itself.  Of course, that was always an added benefit, but seeing exactly what the uniqueness of the item was seemed to intrigue him most.  

I can still see Uncle Bob and Aunt Eleanor's house in Stoneham, always so particularly neat and perfect inside.  To this day I try to replicate Aunt Eleanor's sugar cookie recipe, to no avail.  I just can't seem to get it right.  I've tried this Martha Steward recipe, but despite my own adaptations it still does not possess the softness of Aunt Eleanor's holiday treats.  Perhaps a part of herself was always present in the cookies, and I need to learn to soften myself up, add a bit of sweetness to my own life and make my days more simple.  

If I could jump back to those holidays as a little girl, climbing up the steps to of their house anxiously awaiting cookies, I would.  Who wouldn't?  My cousins, now with beautiful lives of their own, would race me up to the front to see who would be the first to the door.  My poor brother, the only boy at the time, would be pushed to the back by all the girls.  I would be wearing the jeweled Christmas tree pin Aunt Eleanor had given me, as was my tradition. I'm sure Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Bob, who always seemed in a good mood, were well prepared for our visit.  In came five noisy children, already revved up from spending all day at Nana and Papa's house.  Good spirits they were.  For each of us was a bag of the special sugar cookies, shaped like reindeer and elves.

My Great-grandmother White had a saying, "Never say goodbye.  Say "So long."  I think Uncle Bob, a man of strong faith, would like that.  So long, Uncle Bob, until we meet again...