Death.

I've endured many deaths, but none like this. All my relatives that have passed were long lived and ready to soar. Uncle John wasn't.

The man who claimed to have a huge impact in raising me is now gone. I remember our last conversation so vividly. It was over a year ago, he had a gigantic black and blue foot from a motorcycle accident. As soon as I walked through the door, he embraced me with his arms and his warm words "Gosh, my Bailey Girl is so big." We spoke for what felt like hours and hours as if no one else was in the room. As I left, I told him I'd be down for the summer so we could do a project together.

But here I am, over a year later wondering, why God? Uncle John was sooo dear to my heart. Why is he gone? Why didn't I go visit him? Why can't I stop replaying memories in my head with him and Aunt Dorthy? It's not fair.

God has a plan. Uncle John is with him now, safe, sound, pain free, and happy. He will always be with me. I love you Uncle John.