  My uncle Don died last night with his wife and daughter at his side. Two weeks ago he became jaundiced and started bleeding from the stomach. He was my Dads brother, the other so called 'smart' one in the family who 'should have gone to university' like my Dad. He worked at General Motors for the better part of his life until they retrenched him a few back for no good reason other than there was someone younger to replace him and he never really recovered. My poor other uncles, they've lost two brothers and their Mum in 6 years. My uncle Bryan rang me up to tell me, he's such a nice bloke and used to play footy for Hawthorn in the eighties, mullet and all. I used to collect football cards with him on it. I used to sit on uncle Dons knee. My heart feels tired and sad.
I know how this works now, no more throwing crockery at the wall and screaming at nothing like I did with my Dad, just quiet acceptance. Am I supposed to continue raging against the dying of that light? It gets pretty same old after a while. There's only so much raging you can do. There's only so many books you can read and people you can talk to while looking for your answers. I stopped reading like a maniac after Dad died. After I found out today, serp and I went to the Vic Market and got some borek and bratwurst and went to the nearby park.
We looked at the trees, the sunlight through the trees, and the colour of the grass in the light. I wanted a camera but knew I couldn't capture on film what I was seeing. My senses were alight and only I can capture that. I'm sorry for the incoherency, my mind doesn't know where it is right now. It's sailing somewhere, where the waters of past and future meet and once again revisiting everything armed with this new knowledge. 
