It wasn't until Uncle John got sick that I felt the urge to spend time with him. It was in good synchronization with a certain maturity factor that comes with age I suppose; the point in life that you begin to value the short time you have with people. John passed last night at 2 a.m. to brain cancer. At the short, but sharp, decline at the end, John wasn't always there, as the cancer started affecting his cognitive processes. During this last month in the few times that I was over there, I kept hoping that he would snap into it, and we could hang out again. Yet, I know, that I'll never have that, and I can't dwell on what I can't have, but instead reminisce on what happened.
I remember one night Haley and I were hanging out with John and Lorri, talking about marriage, and they said that had never gotten in a fight. I didn't believe them at first so I chuckled, but they both reassured me that they hadn't fought about anything in the 17 years they were married. Furthermore, they said that they slept in a twin size bed! I laughed so hard, I said "Guys, we can't even agree on how firm or soft our bed is, not to mention how to share the blankets all night!" We all had a good laugh.
John loved Lorri. Lorri loved John. They adored each other. It's inspiring. He was a good husband, and a good example to any husband, and that his how I will always remember him; along with his sense of humor, which was hilariously dry, and always present.
Cheers.
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