We got the news this morning that Uncle Bob had died.
Twelve years ago, we moved from Washington state to Michigan. Uncle Bob and Aunt Susan became our closest relatives, as they lived just down the road in Edwardsburg. I was able to visit them when I came out here in June of 2014, a couple months before the rest of the family showed up, and then again in July at the family reunion. The best part about visiting Bob and Susan was that they made me feel like I'd never left, like they'd just seen me a couple days before. No awkwardness (except when I couldn't remember the names of Mike's or Terri's kids). Just lots of good food (thanks to Aunt Susan) and hilarious hours of conversation and story-telling (thanks to Uncle Bob).
We haven't had the opportunity to go down and visit as much as we would've liked, but they didn't complain. Indeed, every time we did manage to come down, it was just like going home again.
Uncle Bob was always eager to show me his latest project, whether it was just an idea in his head that he wanted to make into reality (like those locking gas caps for those tractor trailers) or his retirement vehicle (a miniature RV in which he and Susan were going to drive across country), he was always a dreamer, always a schemer, always planning ahead to the next thing that was going to be fun, innovative, and valuable.
And when he wasn't scheming for the future, he was telling stories about his family, about the people he loved more than life itself: the kids who went through some heart-rending struggles, the grandkids who were smart as whips and twice as ornery, and his wife who took such good care of him that he never had to worry about anything. He loved to laugh. He had a huge repertoire of funny stories.
I'm gonna miss Bob. He was real and genuine and generous and fun-loving and hospitable.
Twelve years ago, we moved from Washington state to Michigan. Uncle Bob and Aunt Susan became our closest relatives, as they lived just down the road in Edwardsburg. I was able to visit them when I came out here in June of 2014, a couple months before the rest of the family showed up, and then again in July at the family reunion. The best part about visiting Bob and Susan was that they made me feel like I'd never left, like they'd just seen me a couple days before. No awkwardness (except when I couldn't remember the names of Mike's or Terri's kids). Just lots of good food (thanks to Aunt Susan) and hilarious hours of conversation and story-telling (thanks to Uncle Bob).
We haven't had the opportunity to go down and visit as much as we would've liked, but they didn't complain. Indeed, every time we did manage to come down, it was just like going home again.
Uncle Bob was always eager to show me his latest project, whether it was just an idea in his head that he wanted to make into reality (like those locking gas caps for those tractor trailers) or his retirement vehicle (a miniature RV in which he and Susan were going to drive across country), he was always a dreamer, always a schemer, always planning ahead to the next thing that was going to be fun, innovative, and valuable.
And when he wasn't scheming for the future, he was telling stories about his family, about the people he loved more than life itself: the kids who went through some heart-rending struggles, the grandkids who were smart as whips and twice as ornery, and his wife who took such good care of him that he never had to worry about anything. He loved to laugh. He had a huge repertoire of funny stories.
I'm gonna miss Bob. He was real and genuine and generous and fun-loving and hospitable.
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