<insert obscure reference to something completely unrelated to post>

My uncle died recently. He spent his last days here in our house. He said that God spared him for a purpose (he'd suffered massive liver and kidney failure), and if there is any merit to that, I think it was just so that he could die surrounded by those that love him, so that his suffering could be eased.

I don't want to go into who my uncle was to me or any of that. That's not really the focus of this post. Just a bit'o'backstory.

My aunt, my mom's sister is here, and my 'aunt', my uncle's wife is here, not that I really care about her at all. *restrains self from hateful rant*

So my mom's sister, her name is Melissa (Missy), handed off a bag to my mom. It was a bag of some of Chris's (my uncle's) ashes. Seeing the ashes of the dead always weirds me out. To know I once knew that fine dust as the human it used to be, and to know it's the same thing. It's really odd. Mom and Missy were discussing what to do with the ashes. They'd been split up into three parts. One for the urn, and two for Mom and Missy to sprinkle or do whatever they wanted. My mom said, "When I sprinkle mine, I want to do it over Daddy's grave."

The phrase struck me. Daddy. My mom, a woman of fifty, calling he father 'Daddy'. Missy called him that, too.

I only had one grandpa growing up, on my dad's side, his father. Mom's dad died when she was young, but had a slew of step-fathers as her mom continued to remarry over and over. My mom hardly ever speaks of her real dad, but when she does, its with a lot more tenderness than she uses when talking about any of her other step-fathers. I guess it isn't hard to understand that. I don't know a lot about my other grandpa. I wonder sometimes what he would think of me if he knew me. I know he was in a war. There's a picture of him in this collage of family photos that hangs in the hallway. He's standing in a Superman pose, his face squinched because of the sun, so in a way I don't reeeally know what he looks like.

Funny thing about me and my uncle. I was going through photos once when I came across a picture of me standing next to this old lady in a red shirt whom I did not recognize for the life of me. I asked my mom where we were when that picture was taken and who the woman was. My mom said to me, "Jamie, that's your uncle." I gawked. It is really weird. Every picture of young Chris looks exactly like me. *laughs* If things stay the same, I should remain the handsome devil I am, hm?

Anyway, it just struck me to hear my mom refer to her father in such a familiar way. I guess it shouldn't, but like I said, she doesn't talk about him much. Not because I think it hurts her to do so, just .. it was a long time ago, you know?

I wonder sometimes if I couldn't ask her more about him, but she herself probably barely knew him when he died, which in a way makes the fact that she calls him 'Daddy' that much more endearing, if that makes sense.

There's a painting of my mom in that same hallway, across from the black and white collage. My mom was in her early twenties, I believe, when it was painted, and it was done by someone of exceptional skill. Don't go getting any ideas when I say this, but my mother was a woman of exceptional, natural, beauty. You've probably already guessed that this is not the case anymore. She's aged, naturally of course, but with the aid of depression, smoking, stress, and basically raising her brother and sister by herself since she was twelve. I wonder a lot how things would be different if she thought of herself as pretty back then when she possessed that rare kind of beauty. Still, I know that the tiniest difference in the course of events can dramatically alter future events. I probably wouldn't have been born. And that wouldn't be good. I like it here. Mostly.

Speaking of me being born, it's because of my mom and dad that makes me believe in love at first sight, however rare, must exist. My parents met each other while on a double-date with -other- mates, my dad with his girl, my mom with her man. My mom and dad haven't been apart since.

*perks* Looks like we're about to leave for the funeral, so I'd better end this post. *ends this post*