Daddy, Papa and Me

My aunt Sandy died yesterday, she was 56. My uncle Al, my father's brother and her husband, died last year (13 months to the day) of a sudden heart attack.

Aunt Sandy was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer in the fall of 2006. It had spread to her legs (that is how she found it, her hip was hurting when she was running) and other parts. The diagnosis wasn't good, it never is for stage 4 cancer, but Aunt Sandy and Uncle Al were amazing optimists and she, they, felt they could beat this.

Then uncle Al died suddenly in April. He and Sandy had always been health aware, physically active, never smoked, but life and health are random. They had been married for 35 years or so and never had children. Their nephews and nieces and neighbor kids were their children (something I will always love, respect and remember them for). They were soulmates. If I were to wax spiritual or sentimental, I'd say that Al's heart couldn't bear living without his soulmate and it broke.

Aunt Sandy carried on her usual optimistic self. She was going to beat it. I had a long lunch with her a few months ago when I was out there for a visit. She was so upbeat. She admitted of course to missing Al terribly, but put on a strong face. I could tell though that half of her life was missing.

The last I talked to her she of course was making plans for the future. We were making plans about putting together a book of memories for Al, planning for her to come visit San Francisco. We tried to talk a while ago, but phone tagged about 4 times.

She finally succumbed to her disease and passed away last night. I wished I had pushed those plans a bit more, saw her a bit more, talked to her more.

I will miss her terribly, and Al... "Al and Sandy" have always been a unit in my heart and my speech. Al and Sandy are home now, wherever that is. I will always remember them and cherish that memory.