kartooner

For many, the 4^th of July is a time to cel­e­brate the his­tory of Amer­i­can inde­pen­dence. It truly marks the offi­cial start of sum­mer; the aroma of freshly cooked bar­beque, the roar of crowds at sport­ing events, the loom­ing boom of fire­works explod­ing in the dis­tance and more impor­tantly a time for fam­i­lies to gather together and wax nostalgic.

For my fam­ily and I, the 4^th of July brings forth a series of mem­o­ries of my Uncle Steve, who died four years ago of schleroderma.

For me per­son­ally, I was for­tu­nate to speak with my Uncle before his death and in that short gap of time he shared with me sev­eral things that I’ll always remem­ber and keep close to my heart. It’s impor­tant that even in the clos­ing moments of our lives that we, as human beings, should remem­ber to leave behind a legacy of words for our loved ones to reflect on and remem­ber us by.

My Uncle was a hard-working man with a lot of strength, both phys­i­cally and meta­phys­i­cally. He wasn’t per­fect, but in my eyes and in the eyes of my fam­ily he couldn’t be any more per­fect than he already was. When that call came, the day he passed on, after strug­gling months on end with the dis­ease that ended his life, I remem­ber think­ing to myself that in that moment when my fam­ily col­lec­tively sighed relief for his pain and our anguish, that a man who I had come to know as my Uncle had passed on and no longer would I be able to pick up the phone and just shoot the breeze.

There’s no bet­ter time than now to look around you and notice your sur­round­ings, how­ever near or far. Under­stand that life is pre­cious and in a flash of mem­o­ries the present is already the past.