When I was in middle school the parents of a classmate died in an accident. I remember going to their house to pay our respects. As I stood there in the middle of that sad scene all I could think of, was how grateful I was that I had never lost anyone close to me.
All my family was still alive. Thru the years I would check in and take inventory of all of my family, mom, dad, sister, grandparents, cousins and yes everyone was still there; alive.
During a family road trip, one of my oldest aunt's husband fell ill. They lived in the southern part of Columbia. A group of us had gone to visit. This was a big deal for us; traveling by car for three days down south with all the cousins.
The night we arrived, the uncle had a seizure. Later they discovered he had cancer and a year later he died. During his treatment he and my aunt moved into my grandparents' house in the Capital, Bogota.
I spent most of my weekends growing up in that house. I remember seeing him slowly decaying, till there was nothing left.
I also remember how my aunt and grandmother took care of him and how it seemed that they too died a little.
This letter is part of the Death Letter Project - North Carolina, a means to celebrate the 150th anniversary of Historic Oakwood Cemetery in Raleigh, NC.
Credits:
Michael Palko