Though this visit to Boston was long-overdue in terms of visiting friends here, it was also in part so that I could be at a memorial service for my uncle G. He, along with my aunt J (who sadly passed away when I was in Madagascar), were my surrogate parents when I went to college in the area, and I spent much time at their house in Hingham or meeting them in the city for meals or museums. It's so disorienting that they're both now gone. The end of an era, and too strange to process that I'll never again make the drive down the south shore to their house.
Still, it was three months ago that G passed away after a long illness, and the time intervening seemed to give everyone leeway to process much of their grief and make the memorial a really raucous, joyous occasion--which would have suited G perfectly. My aunt P and mother spent multiple evenings doing nothing but sifting through box after box after box of old family photos stashed in G's basement, marveling at how young they once were.
And on a brilliant spring morning, we scattered G's ashes (illegally, no doubt) in the local park where J's ashes were scattered almost exactly seven years ago.
In and among all the tasks and festivities and remembrances, there was a lot of good quality time with the surviving three siblings.
R.I.P., Uncle G.
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