Today it is my Uncle Christy’s memorial service. He died a month ago and hadn’t been in good health for a while. I last saw him in November, and in some ways he was still the same Uncle Christy I always remembered – sharp as a tack, funny – but it was clear he wasn’t very well. I’m glad I got to see him one last time.
He was the last of my uncles, and I think for my mum it’s particularly hard, knowing she’s the last one of her siblings left – a reminder of her own mortality and the passing of time, of those lost. This much-loved photo of my mum and her brothers as children serves as a poignant reminder that once there were four. Now there is only one.