A Fond Farewell to Uncle Bill

Uncle Bill died in February, but we waited until June 8 to memorialize him. I planned the service carefully, with input from Jane. The funeral home recommended a wonderful lay-pastor, Jack, to lead the service. I met with him soon after Uncle Bill passed and shared writings from both Jane and me to give him a sense of what a special person he would be helping us honor.

The graveside service would be small, with my mom, brother, Jane, my cousins and spouses, and special friend Sandy. Though Uncle Bing (Bill's twin) wouldn't be making the trip from Mexico, cousin Sarah was coming from Seattle, and Sandy from Florida. We invited everyone to our house to socialize following the service.

In the weeks before, I planted annuals and perennials in front of the monument at the family plot. I hoped they would do better than the geraniums Mom and I usually plant.

As the service approached, COVID cases started to rise, which concerned Jane, rightly so. When I came down with COVID on May 27, at first I panicked, thinking of the service. Then I checked the CDC guidelines, and as long as I was symptom-free by then, I could be among others safely. With nearly two weeks to go, I figured I'd be fine. I took Paxlovid and was feeling close to normal in a few days. Whew! I decided not to tell Jane, so as not to worry her needlessly.

A week later, two days before the service, I was stuffy and sneezy. When I awoke the next day with a fever, I took a COVID test, and it was positive. It was a Paxlovid rebound case. Damn! Fortunately, the service was outside, and we could move the gathering at our house outside. I hoped everyone would be comfortable as long as I wore a mask.

I sent Jane an email, and she called me right away. As I'd expected, she didn't feel safe coming, especially since a friend was going to drive her. Ironically, she and Uncle Bill chose not to attend my Aunt Janet's graveside service -- same cemetery, same plot -- three years ago due to COVID. 

I couldn't believe this was happening. All the time and effort to plan the perfect service for Uncle Bill, and I get COVID 12 days beforehand, recover in time, then get it again two days before, causing his life partner to miss the service and time with family. COVID is so relentless and cruel.

The service was at 1:00 p.m. on Saturday and lasted about 20 minutes. Jack did a wonderful job of capturing Uncle Bill's essence, without ever having met him. I still had a low fever but otherwise felt fine. Mom, George, Brian, Don, Sarah, Sandy, and cousins Mary Hunter (and son William), Janet (and husband Ned), Sarah, and Elizabeth (husband John and son Jack), and I bid Uncle Bill farewell.

I read a short poem that Jane wrote, as well as my own:

An uncle’s gifts

Uncle Bill wasn’t a saint, 

but he did a good impression of one.

He modeled kindness, affability, generosity, and self-deprecation.

I learned only recently that his grandmother used to say,

“Anyone who would criticize Bill would criticize God Himself.”

Hyperbole, of course, but close enough to the truth 

to make me nod and smile.

Uncle Bill showed me the world 

beyond Western Massachusetts.

He introduced me to 

Teresa Brewer and Patti Page;

the electric slide and the hustle; 

Haagen Dazs ice cream and Pepperidge Farm Milanos; 

Broadway, Sardi’s, and the Plaza.

But his greatest gift 

wasn't an article or experience;

it was an emotion.

Uncle Bill made me — 

a chubby, gap-toothed girl with glasses and bangs —

feel special;

I felt adored by him.

And I adored him. 

He was the best uncle I could ask for, 

my lifelong cheerleader and pen pal.

I will always feel blessed to be his niece.

May he rest in eternal peace 

and somehow still feel my love.

Everyone came back to our house afterwards, and we had a nice time catching up in the yard. Uncle Bill would have enjoyed it immensely.

Sarah recorded the service, and I posted it to YouTube so Jane and Uncle Bing could see how beautiful and meaningful it was. I felt as though I'd done my special uncle justice, and it was a great relief to have his remains laid to rest with his family.

When I had shared with "Pastor Jack" that I had COVID and Jane wouldn't be coming, he paraphrased a quote from "Little Women" to console me: It's not perfect, but it will be just right. As disappointed as I was that Jane wasn't there, perhaps it all went as it should. The day would have been hard on Jane, who had already been through so much. Maybe it was appropriate for the next generation to give Uncle Bill a proper send-off; I'm confident we did.