one of those things that reminds us of how short life can be...

In my last post, I told you the story of all the people my grandfather helped in his lifetime. One of those people was my Uncle B. My grandfather helped him and his family through some hardships; allowed them to build a home on his land. Over time, he was more than just my grandfather's drinking buddy... he was family. In my grandfather's final days, Uncle B was there with him within an arms reach ready to help in every way imaginable.

As I grew up, I had the privilege to get to know Uncle B and his family. I played with his children, all of whom were older than me. They welcomed me into their home, share meals with them. To me, they were family. During the summers when all my other cousins were away, I would go over to their home in the middle of the day to sit and talk. He even taught me a little carpentry. I also joined in on some farming. I remember the time when I helped them harvest sugar canes then enjoying fresh sugar cane juice, digging the ground for peanuts, climbing the tall Kamansi (Breadfruit) trees to pluck the delicious fruit. Granted most may see it as the 'simple life' but through that I grew to appreciate and respect the land... the worth of a hard day's work.

I write this post in the memory of my Uncle B. Sadly, he passed away yesterday. I at least had the pleasure to see him again on my last trip home. There is no way to put to words how grateful I am to him, his family. He has been a great influence in my life. My prayers go out to him and his family. May he rest in God's endless love.