He died within days of my high school graduation.
I spent lots of time with him during my summer holidays. I remember him well.
He was a man of his word. My Uncle George.
One night, I was going on a date. He told me to have fun, but "be home not one minute past midnight."
I was late. Not by much. Maybe ten minutes at the most. But none the less, tardy.
"You're late. Didn't I tell you to come home on time?" I shrugged and brushed it off. He didn't.
I spent the next day grounded, and ended up washing and waxing his truck for "punishment." I would never be late again the rest of the summer.
You see, he loved me. He was a paramedic and saw accident scenes that pierced his mind forever.
Mostly, he loved my aunt and my cousin Adam.
Those days after his death were difficult. We were at a park and as I looked after Adam, my aunt circled the river walk. The whys walked along side her as she wiped away tears.
Fast forward more than 25 years. Things are different, as they should be.
Today my Aunt is enjoying the United Kingdom! Literally...today!