So, I got on facebook a little while ago, and guess what? My Uncle Buddy died.  He was in his 60's and was in treatment for lung cancer.  He had it before, and it went into remission.  This time, it mestasticized to his brain, and he had been having issues since February.  He was doing better, he was on his second round of radiation, he sat down for his treatment, closed his eyes, and never opened them again.  He was the middle child in a family of 9, the oldest remaining brother, and leaves behind two sisters, a brother, and scores of nieces, nephews, great-nieces and nephews, cousins, in-laws, etc.

 I found out from another uncle's stepson, which isn't the best way to find out.  Apparently, outside of my remaining uncle and his immediate family(my aunt, her son, and whichever grandkids happened to be around) I was the first one to know.  After discussing it with DH, I called my mother (who just left on an 8 day cruise YESTERDAY) and let her know that she had lost another sibling.  Absolutely the worst thing I've ever had to do by far.

 We have had a lot of loss in the past few years.  See, my grandmother's best friend(she died wo weeks after my fourth birthday) died early in 2009, my dad died in May 2009, my great-uncle died in September 2010, and my Aunt Carolyn, my mother's oldest sister, died in February 2011(two weeks before my birthday, one week before I planned on visiting her).  It's been a bad few years.

Now, my Uncle Buddy was a Vietnam vet.  He came back from war and he was never the same.  My mother told me that once after I was born, she woke up in the middle of the night and he had booby-trapped the entire house, ever on the lookout.  After my grandmother died, I didn't see him again until I was 27.  I just saw him for the first time in 23 years in February, when we buried his oldest sister.

 I guess what's bothering me is the fact that it's not.  I'm not particularly upset that he's gone.  I mean, my mom tells me that I was his favorite out of all the nieces and nephews.  She tells me that he used to take me walking all over DC, and that I used to love it.  But the only memory of him that I have is one from what was probably close to one of the last times I saw him.  I was sitting on the couch and he walked in.  He asked me for a kiss, but he reeked of alcohol, so I wiped his kiss off my face.  He gave me a hurt look and said that if I didn't want his kisses, he wouldn't give them to me anymore.  I tried to apologize, but he did that fake hurt thing that adults do sometimes, and that's it.  I don't remember seeing him again, and my whole life I've felt really guilty for that, like I did something to drive him away.  But now that he's gone, I don't feel anything.

 I guess part of me wonders if the fact that I'm in a manic state is preventing me from feeling things.  I mean I'm sad for my mom, because she has had to bury so many people in her life, she just buried a sister (and there were only 3 girls to start with), she hasn't fully recovered from losing her husband, and now this.  I feel awful for her and the fact that I had to tell her; this is the first time I've ever had to be the one making that call.  But I don't feel sad, or disappointed a all.  I just don't feel anything.

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