Recently, my uncle died of lung cancer. He was addicted to smoking and could go through a pack in a single afternoon if he was stressed. He usually did a pack a day, which of course isn't healthy for you. Uncle Raymond was like a second father to me. When Aunt Alicia (his wife) died 2 years ago from the same cause, due to second-hand smoking, I was DEVASTATED.
We were really close and even though he was hurting more than I, he helped me through it. Now, he's not here... and I'm falling apart. We visited him almost every weekend since he lived only 3 blocks away. I remember waking up every Saturday and jumping on my parents bed like a toddler and begging to visit.
But now, I can't.
I'll never see his caramel-colored face again, those soft and warm blue eyes, be with that daring and fun uncle he transformed into for my sake whenever I was around. My mom is practically dying herself over the anguish. (He was her brother.) I am too.
I hope you all understand that I'm going to take a break to grieve the loss.
RIP Uncle Raymond