It was unexpected and familiar. A feeling in my gut that I couldn't place even though it had once been felt before. Then the call came. Today I found out that my uncle Phil died on Saturday. According to his girlfriend, he fell in the tub. I'm not sure how true that is but I suppose it doesn't really matter. A man I loved is gone. Another one. Glen is dying too. In just a week he went from being talkative and joking around, to being confused and unable to speak. He's still here though.
And I'm in Maryland. Stuck. Waiting for the call to come that Glen is gone too and it's time for me to come home. My family is falling apart and my mother has slipped into a deep depression. And there's nothing I can do about any of it.
But holy shit does it hurt.
