Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Uncle Tom and Aunt Dottie

For the last few days, I was out of town for the funeral of a family friend. He was one of my adopted uncles, known as Uncle Tom, because both my parents being only children, I don't have any biological uncles.

My mom called me about two weeks ago to let me know that he was dying. She said that, while he probably couldn't take phone calls, as ill as he was, he'd appreciate a letter. She suggested sending some photos.

So right before Father's Day I wrote a cheerful letter and included some recent photos of myself and The Gryphon, plus some from Christmas featuring my brother and his family, and one of me with my sister. I sent them overnight, saying in the letter that I was overnighting them so they'd get there by Father's Day, because I'd always considered him part of the family.

This past weekend, Mom called to let me know he was gone. She left it up to me to determine whether I could make it to the funeral. This was an easy choice for me: I could do it, so I figured I should. I made arrangements with work to reschedule my afternoon assignment and do my evening work from Dad's place. Of course, Dad was out of town, vacationing in Nova Scotia with my brother's family, but I had his key and knew he wouldn't mind my staying there.

While they'll soon be hiring an assistant for The Gryphon at his workplace, he's still the only IT person there and they're in the middle of some big projects. I told him I understood that he couldn't go and that I'd send his regards to my mom.

So I hopped in my car Monday afternoon with my dog, Una, and made the trip. I arrived with just enough time to grab a quick dinner at Mom's house. She served chicken breast with a fresh salad and homemade bread, and she packed me some fruit to eat later as a snack. I love my Mom.

I had notified my workplace that it might take longer to get things done from my dad's place, so when I fell asleep in front of the computer (having nobody to make coffee for me and give me invigorating neck massages, as The Gryphon does), they weren't surprised.

My dad's old office chair was very uncomfortable, giving me lower back pain. I also didn't get very much sleep that night before heading over to Mom's place to join her for breakfast. We waited for my sister and her husband before going to the funeral.

Of course, the first thing you see when you get to the church sanctuary is the coffin. We filed by and paid our respects. Mom started to break down in tears, and I put an arm around her and gently guided her to a pew next to my sister and her husband.

That's often how I am at funerals. It's not that I'm not sad people are gone, but that's not usually when I cry. Often, I cry when I first find out. At the funeral itself, that's just the time when I say good-bye. I usually hold it together, especially if I need to be strong for my mom.

I was touched to discover that they'd propped up a photograph at the foot of the coffin of the pastor with his wife. It was one I'd taken of them at the celebration of his 60th year in the ministry and given them as a gift, and I was pleased to see it.

The two pastors who delivered messages did a great job, infused with memories and a sense of humor. I'm sure Uncle Tom would have appreciated it, as he had a healthy sense of humor. He was also an amateur magician and loved to do magic tricks as part of his ministry, especially for children. I got caught up, remembering how he used to amaze me as a child, how he regaled me with stories as adult. I smiled a little.

Both my mom and my sister were crying, so I did my best to be there for them: hold their hands, give them hugs.

Once the ceremony concluded, we drove to the cemetery for the interment. Of course, we'd been there a couple years earlier for his wife's funeral. They hadn't even engraved the dates of her death yet. Just as we drew close, the rain started. We put up umbrellas and walked to the grave. It eased up then but resumed during the Pastor's address.

When it was over, we were invited back to the church for a luncheon. My sister and her husband, though, had to get back to Bellefonte for work, and my mother also had to go to work. I didn't have to work until the evening, so I decided to go.

In the fellowship hall, I looked around and spotted someone I recognized: a local historian I used to consult for stories when I was a reporter at a local newspaper. I greeted her and asked if I could sit with her. She said I could.

Turns out that she's also a genealogist and was a distant relative of Uncle Tom. We shared some reminiscences about him. The Pastor joined us, as well as her son. For some reason, my parents have often befriended members of the clergy. Over the years, they've been friends with nearly every one of their pastors, plus some others, besides.

Of course, I paid my respects, as well, to the family who had been Uncle Tom's caregivers the last few years. He'd never had any children, and they were close friends who had taken care of his day to day needs. The patriarch was also the executor of the estate. I spoke to him, expressed my sympathy and told him how wonderful it was that they'd done so much for the Mussers over the years.

After a filling lunch of a half sandwich, some vegetables and small slice of cake, I was on my own for a few hours before meeting with the Pastor for dinner, at her invitation.

I drove first to the Staples store to find a new office chair, because I couldn't stand the idea of spending another shift in the old broken-down torture device. I found one that looked suitable and put it on my credit card. I figured I'd leave the receipt for Dad and maybe he'd reimburse me later.

While I was exhausted, too many thoughts were running through my head and I didn't think I could sleep. Instead, I drove to one of the bigger Salvation Army stores in the area and purchased a few tops.

I was back just in time to have dinner with The Pastor. She'd made salmon patties, which were delicious, along with some fresh vegetables. We got caught up on each other's lives before I dismissed myself to get ready for the evening's work.

After getting the office chair set up, I took a nap until time for work. Another long night, but at least this one was more comfortable.

The next morning, I was up early to join Mom for breakfast before she left for work. She made me a nice egg white omelet with a bowl of fruit. She's been on the Weight Watchers program since last year, but like me, she put on some weight over the holidays and was struggling to get back to where she'd been. We encouraged each other and swore to work hard to regain lost ground, so to speak.

It was nice to see Mom one last time before she headed for work. Then I got some more sleep before my afternoon assignment. Afterwards, I loaded up my suitcase and my dog and drove home. I hit rush hour traffic when I got close but didn't see any road closings due to the Northeast flooding, as my mom had feared.

I made sure to call her and let her know that I'd gotten back safely. It was nice to be home. The kitty, Luke, greeted me. The Gryphon tells me he spent a lot of time while I was gone sitting in my office chair. He's a very sociable kitty, so I'm sure he misses me when I'm not there.

Even now, I keep remembering little moments with Uncle Tom and Aunt Dottie: nights we visited them and my brother and I fell asleep in the upstairs bedroom until our parents carried us out to the car; Fourth of July celebrations at the little property on Penn's Creek he wryly called Uncle Tom's Cabin; quiet New Year's Eve celebrations in the neat, antique-filled home.

I miss him, definitely, but for the last several years he's been in such pain from a long battle with cancer that I'm not sorry that he's no longer facing that daily pain. I imagine, instead, that somewhere in the afterlife, he's been reunited with the love of his life and they're creating their own heaven together, just as they always lived in their own perfect world of shared love.

Copyright 2006 by Alyce Wilson

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