Be With Us All
My uncle Vic died yesterday. My mother's brother. Now she is the last of her generation who is still alive. Not unexpected, a man in his eighties, a good life and a long life. A husband, a father, a violinist, a teacher, a man who held the United States collegiate record for the one hundred yard dash for more than thirty years, a man who missed the Olympics because there was no Olympics and he and his brother had to go to war, a Ranger in the Pacific, whom I learned only recently went ashore with the reconnaissance patrols before the main forces invaded the beaches as he had the ability to hear a message and simultaneously send it in Morse code. He leaves his wife of over 50 years, my aunt Francis, and two children.
Three sisters and two brothers, my mother's generation, the children of immigrants from Iceland, they were wedded to and fought the battles of their generation, just as we are wedded to and fight the battles of our own. His passage is our passage, they lead and set the example, we follow as best we are able from behind. God be with you, uncle Vic. God be with you my aunt Francis. God be with us all.
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