This has been one of my longest dry spells in posting and it's been a busy couple of weeks. The problems at work I never got to last time, more shake-ups at work, more car trouble and a visit to Kennedy Space Center. I will recap some of this over the weekend. The topic which brings me to the keyboard is one of the recurring topics on here; death.

I just talked with my son who informed me that his uncle, my ex's brother-in-law, suddenly died two days ago from an epileptic seizure. He was just 30 years old, married less than a year and a new father. Needless to say, it was something of a shock to the family there. This would be his first wake and funeral if he decides to go.

His mother and I talked for a while about this and do seem to be in agreement on how to handle this. We are going to leave the decision up to him to attend or not. His first reaction is not to go. We are both leaving it up to him but still gently nudging in favor of actually attending. It is something he is going to have to deal with sooner or later and better to do so with someone not quite as close as other people on his life.

I can still clearly remember the first person in a casket I saw. My Uncle Kenny died when I was 10 years old. He and I were very close as I went to his house every day after school. He was loving and funny. More than thirty years later I can still remember his smile and large, gentle hands.

My father arranged to bring me into the funeral home when no one else was there. We sat in the car for a few minutes before I could actually get out and move towards the building. I had wanted to go and see him. I don't know what my parents said to prepare me but I was ready.

The warm scented air inside, heavy with the scent of flowers, almost pushed me back as the door to the funeral home opened. My father led me in with a hand on my shoulder. At first, all I saw was the casket. With little hesitation, we walked closer.

There he was. A favorite uncle who would always greet me loudly and happily lying silent and motionless. While it was unreal to me I can recall that I was most surprised that it was not scary. The serene setting of the paneled walls and draperies with a collection of beautiful flowers on either side of the casket made a very relaxing atmosphere. I looked directly at his face studying every detail. I asked my father some questions which he answered in quiet, hushed tones. Even though we were the only ones there we still had to whisper.

I just looked at him. I didn't say a prayer. I didn't break down crying. Nothing horrible or emotionally disturbing happened to scar me for life. I was sad that my uncle was gone. I don't know if there was any of the ever popular "closure" in saying goodbye. He was my Uncle Kenny and I had to see him one last time. Maybe because it was him that it wasn't a scary or traumatic experience; there was never anything scary about Uncle Kenny.

Like anyone, I can still do without attending wakes, but they are a part of life. Just as my father was there to see me through my first experience, I hope I can be there for my son.