Uncle Bus

Nine years ago today my Uncle Buster, one of my favorite people in the whole world, passed away. He died of a heart attack in his sleep; it was sudden and unexpected. Rob and I were living in Illinois at the time. We had no children, we both had demanding jobs working 60+ hours a week making good money, and we both wanted to move back home and start a family, "some day". At that point in time we really didn't have a timetable for our move back home. There was no rush, and aside from missing my family, our life in Illinois was pretty good. Then came the phone call telling me that Uncle Bus had died.

When I got off the phone from my parents I sat on the living room floor in our apartment clutching a box of Kleenex and watching the videotape of our wedding. I was desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Uncle Bus, to see his handsome face and twinkling eyes one more time, to hear his infectious laugh. I think that's where Robbie found me when he got home. Through choked sobs I told him what had happened, that Uncle Bus was gone.

It was decided that I shouldn't return home for the funeral. My parents worried about me traveling alone being so upset, and we would be home in a little over a month for Thanksgiving, then Christmas after that. Uncle Bus' funeral was on a Friday. I left work early that afternoon. At the time the funeral was to start I was just approaching our apartment. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and as I turned on to our road the Vince Gill song "Go Rest High On That Mountain" came on the radio. As I leaned forward to turn up the volume on the radio I looked out the windshield up at the sky. Overhead, stretched across the blue sky with it's puffy white clouds, was a beautiful rainbow. Between the song and the rainbow the tears flowed down my face. I believe that was my Uncle's way of saying goodbye.

It took a long time for my heart to heal from losing Uncle Bus. I still get teary when I think of him. I would love for him to know my children and for them to know him, they would adore each other. His death changed my life in many ways. He was only a few years older than my parents, and our return home from Illinois suddenly took on a sense of urgency for me. Losing him set the wheels in motion, it was time to move home and start a family. I wanted to be sure that my parents had the opportunity to know and love my children. One year and one day after Uncle Bus died we closed on our house in Maine. Two years and four days after his death Kylie was born. Losing Uncle Bus made me realize that nothing lasts forever. I would give anything for him to still be with us, but because of his death we made choices that have given us the life we have today. I miss you, Uncle Bus.

Edited a few hours after originally posted to add: I believe that the people we love are still around us spiritually, even after they pass. This morning I told my Uncle Bus it would be nice to see a sign, just to show me that he's around. Tonight while I was in the basement doing a few things I opened the freezer that stopped working almost two weeks ago. I had left some ice packs and a bunch of the "Flavor-Ice" popsicles in there since I didn't have room in the other freezers for them and I figured they would re-freeze easy enough once the freezer was fixed. The repairman isn't supposed to be here until this coming Friday. I had opened the door to the freezer this past Thursday, and found the inside to be room temperature and the ice packs and popsicles completely thawed. Tonight when I opened the freezer it was icy cold inside, and the contents were frozen solid. I can almost hear Uncle Bus saying "Okay little girl, here's your sign...".