Family is the Sea On Which We Float.
Writing a blog post about someone after their passing is something that, unfortunately, I've struggled with in the past. It's a very personal thing to put out there on the Internet. And there are a lot of people, their lives, and their emotions to consider.
However, a few years ago, I wrote a post about an old friend, and in this digital age, many people found it and commented by searching for his name. Those reactions made me feel like the decision was right, and that I'd honored someone in the best way I know how: by writing about them.
So if you will, please share with me a few random memories of a man with a sharp wit and an anchor tattooed on his arm. Every summer, he'd descend like one, big, jovial locust on Cape Cod, with his hilarious Speedo, a pair of dark sunglasses, and not much more.
His humor was dry, but his laugh was genuine. He was one of my family's favorite characters. He stood with my dad in my parents' wedding in 1957. He was a Marine who loved the sea, his family, a good beer, and an even better joke.
The last time I saw him was on October 24, 2008, when his grand-daughter Jennifer walked down the aisle during a starlit, Victorian wedding in New Orleans. He'd lost a little bit of himself by then, but there were still some very clear glimpses - a funny little dance in the ballroom, a sudden guffaw at the dinner table ... a wink over drinks in the lounge.
On Friday, my family will officially say goodbye to this force of nature. His ashes will be scattered at sea...he's going home.
I am so glad we got to have one more dance and one more drink, Uncle Skip. We'll miss you. Godspeed.
Photos from the Beat
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