Great Uncle Passes Away

I just found out my great uncle is dead. He was my grandmother’s younger brother. I wrote about him recently; it was July 2. I referred to him as “Bill” because I didn’t want any problems with some people I was criticizing. Some relatives had taken him in; something about caring for him in exchange for a house.

He got pneumonia and became emaciated, and my aunt found out about it and had him moved to a nice nursing home in her town. We were able to put him in better surroundings, and he got visits, and he had a roommate he liked. And we got him some creature comforts. But he didn’t last long. We should have been looking out for him; he has closer relatives whom you would expect to watch over him, but apparently they chose not to, and for one reason or another, we didn’t take up the slack very well. I can sit here and write about how I’m a thousand miles away and no one keeps me in the loop, but the final conclusion is that he had relations who could have helped him sooner, and he fell through the cracks.

The way Americans treat the aged is a disgrace, and I am sure we are judged for it. I’m glad I figured that out in time to be good to my father. I’m also glad I never had the opportunity to neglect a close relation of advancing years, because I might well have done it, had I had the chance. It’s so convenient to pack them off to warehouses and visit them once a year. I have done a lot of selfish things in my life; I can’t say that would have been beyond me.

It’s sad that we learn these lessons so far into life. Sometimes, by the time you learn, you’ve already done a great deal of damage, and it can’t be undone.

My mother did not live to enter old age. I was good to her, but not as good as I should have been, and not soon enough. I will always regret that I didn’t do better. But because of her, I will always be conscious of the need to do well by others who are older than I am.

If you’re in the same boat, or worse, I have something that might make you feel a little better. You can go to the website of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews and donate money for the care of elderly Jews in the former USSR or Holocaust victims in Israel. You’ll never know who you helped, but at least you’ll know that you are doing what ought to be done. Some of these folks have no relatives, and I suppose some have relatives who just don’t care. Maybe there is someone you didn’t treat right when you had the chance. The IFCJ can help you show that you’ve changed.

By the way, the Manly Grub Forum has a board where people post the names of charities they like. Most of them are new to me. If you ever feel the need to give, the board might be of some use to you. You can find it here.

I talked to my aunt on the phone tonight. Apparently, people in the town where my mother and many of my relatives are buried look down on you if you don’t keep flowers on the graves of your loved ones. I guess I’m awful, but I have never cared much about putting flowers on graves. I always think of the dead as spirits who are far from the grave, so I don’t feel like it’s meaningful to put flowers on tombstones. Maybe that’s a character flaw.

She told me about an old mountain tradition called “Decoration Day.” People up in the hills used to make flowers from crepe paper and dip them in paraffin to protect them from the rain. Then on Decoration Day, they’d put them on the tombstones of people they knew. I had never heard of it. People up there must think my father and sister and I are barbarians, for failing to look after my mother’s grave.

My aunt told me that someone had placed American flags on the graves of my grandfather and her husband, my uncle. Probably for the Fourth.

A long time ago. someone in the family put a dogwood tree on one of the graves. My other aunt’s, I think. On the next visit, there was no tree on the grave. But there was one just like it on another grave, up the hill.

So tonight I told my aunt things were looking up. They used to steal our landscaping, and now they were making contributions to it. You have to wonder what kind of person puts a stolen tree on a grave.

Take a look at those charities. Might bring you some comfort.