Uncle Jim and Longing for Home

On Monday morning I received a phone call from my sister-in-law asking me if I was coming to Uncle Jim's funeral the next day.  What?!!?  I didn't even know he had died.  How could I not know this?  My brother, who keeps me informed of anyone from my home town who passes away -- even people I've never heard of -- neglected to mention that my own uncle had died several days earlier!

As the only remaining member of my dad's family, I knew I wanted to attend his funeral.  A couple of hours later, after a last-minute oil change, and a quick stuffing of things into an overnight bag, I found myself on the road making the six-hour trip to my home town.

My Uncle Jim had not been well for the past several years, so his passing was not only expected, but I suppose could be considered "a blessing".  Because of this I wasn't really expecting to shed any tears as I entered the church building where his funeral was taking place.  WRONG!!  The minute I saw the printed program, I was in trouble.  The tears started flowing, and they wouldn't stop for the next several hours.

The youthful picture of Uncle Jim on the program was immediately recognizable.  It was the same picture that hung on the wall above the piano at my grandmother's house for as long as I can remember.  Uncle Jim was in the middle, my dad was on the left, and Uncle Bryce was on the right.  I always loved those three pictures.

The table on one side of the guest registry displayed a few items that symbolized things that were important to him.  As I looked at those items, I was reminded of my dad and my grandparents.  More tears!

On the other side of the guest registry was a tv playing a slide show of pictures from Uncle Jim's past.  My own family -- in our growing-up years -- were featured in some of these pictures.  Again with the tears!  When my sister-in-law found me, I think she was surprised to see me in tears.  I explained to her that all the pictures and mementos were making me nostalgic, and I guess I was homesick for my past.  Apparently far more homesick than I realized.

My dad died about 35 years ago, and my mom has been gone for over six.  I haven't lived in my hometown for over 38 years, and it's been 40 years since I last stepped foot in my grandparent's home.  It would only make sense that I would be homesick, right?

As I stood in line to enter the room where people were meeting with the family, I noticed a few familiar faces of townsfolk from when I was a girl.  These faces were now attached to aged and frail bodies.  It brought on other memories of growing up.

When I entered the room to meet with my aunt and my cousins, I felt my eyes stinging again.  Several of these cousins had moved far away, and I hadn't seen them for many, many years.  We hugged and talked and hugged some more.  It was WONDERFUL to spend time with them!

During the funeral, as the biography of his life was given, I cried a lot more.  I was a little embarrassed, and hoped that no one was noticing how emotional I was.  But I couldn't help it.  As I listened to the eulogy, I felt so close to my past that it just made me cry.  And cry.  And cry.  Who knew after all these years that I would have such a longing for my home and roots?  Who knew I would be so attached to people and things I hadn't even thought about for decades?

This whole situation has given me pause to reflect.  If this short return to my hometown was so awesome, I can only imagine how glorious it will be like to return to my heavenly home!  I'm looking so forward to it.

Although I'm content to wait a few more years!

Dixie