My uncle passed away yesterday. He battled cancer for a long time and never gave up right to the end.

My aunt told me that she had a dream the night before he died. In the dream, he told her that he was moving because he found an apartment with a big piazza that was perfect for them. It gave me healing chills to hear about that dream. So now I picture my uncle up in heaven in an apartment with a big piazza waiting for the day when my aunt is ready to join him.

We are all taking his death pretty hard. He was the patriarch of our family and it feels like more than a person is gone, for we know that in his leaving some of our family history and traditions are gone, too. It is hard for me to explain. I know all of us will want to carry on so much of what he gave to us, and we will try, but it will never quite be the same. It is the passing of a man we all loved as well as the passing of an era.

My husband said it feels like one of the faces of Mount Rushmore has disappeared.

Posted is a picture of all of us on Christmas Eve from a few years ago. It was my uncle who really kept this tradition going strong all of these years. He is in the white shirt sitting on the couch.