Absence

I found out one of my great uncles had been missing for 30 years. For some odd reason it felt like reality got a bit dimmer. We found out that he had given his sister one address in Oakland California. I looked up the street at 1111 Webster Street ,Oakland California- there was a hotel. I wonder if he had stayed there,I wonder if I had lived there for a time? Did he fall in love? was he happy? Did he keep on keeping on, I wondered how he found himself so far from home. Now I grieve a great uncle I never met.

We found out a couple days after he died, presumably alone, in a nursing home. I don't know if knowing that helped. His sister called my mom and she called the coroner, thats how we found out. Perhaps it helped his Sisters and Brothers tie up loose ends of grief, some sort of finality in their brother’s story. I wonder if he could feel their love and my dormant love for him. I wonder if he could feel himself slip into our consciousness every now and then, his nieces and nephews and their children's passing thoughts of him, I wonder if he knew, even in his solitariness, that he was loved and not forgotten.

When we found out, we told my Grandpa. He said "oh" and looked off, in that “oh” I wonder if he remembered his brother as he was and I wonder if his brother could feel that. Life is strange and unusual, grief is strange and unusual.

I think its important love dearly and deeply.