Tribute to Uncle AL

When Polly asked me to pay tribute to my Uncle Al, I was so honored. He was a beautiful, beautiful guy, inside and out, and an extraordinary uncle. I mean, no one has an uncle like this one. Over the years as we would spend time together, going out for lattes or sushi or shopping for shoes or whatever, people would always, without fail make the comment:
"That's your uncle?"

Yes, crazy, isn't it?

Our friendship, for that's what it was, deepened when Uncle Al came to live with my family the year after I graduated from high-school, and was working to save money for college. We would listen to Bryan Adams new CD on his pristine stereo equipment, or sit around a chat or watch TV. I remember coming home one day and he was cleaning all my hairbrushes.
He was a bit of a fanatic that way!

One of my treasured memories is when Uncle Al came to my graduation from Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. When I emerged from the auditorium, he was waiting right outside the door, with a single rose. "I'm so proud of you," he said.

It was a moment bathed in sunshine, and joy. Unforgettable and priceless.

"That's your uncle?" my college girlfriends said in amazement. Yes. He's somethin' alright.
Other such moments shimmer with meaning and memory: When Uncle Al would drop by on a whim, a bag of fresh baked bagels in tow, to visit with me and my mom in the months before my wedding. Choice bits of advice on my love life, or lack of it, depending on what era we're talking about. Sitting in sunlit outdoor cafes, soaking in the warmth of a Winnipeg summer, and savoring just being in the moment.

Uncle Al had a way with people that was simply unmatched by anyone I've ever met. Women of all ages adored him. I remember when Uncle Al was a groomsman in my brother Dan's wedding. At the rehearsal dinner the night before one of the bridesmaids just opened up to him about her failing relationship. She had met him moments before, yet she felt comfortable enough to cry and tell him about her broken heart. Of course, he listened and comforted her in his way. He would have made a marvelous counselor. "That's your uncle?" she said, shaking her head. Yes, he's the best, isn't he?

The next day at Dan's wedding reception my husband's grandma came to chat, and instantly they had a lively banter going. I thought, 'My word, Grandma Finney is flirting with Uncle Al!'

But he was a guy's guy too. Last month he phoned Doyle to tell him about some great Vietnamese catfish he had eaten, and the two had a substantial conversation about hunting and fishing in Manitoba, and Michigan. Uncle Al could talk to anyone!

One of my most treasured memories of all is having Uncle Al accompany me to Vancouver for a book convention about a year and a half ago. He was already sick, and weakened by his illness, he couldn't power shop Robson Street like he would have otherwise. So we spent a lot of time talking, in cafes, restaurants, looking at the ocean from the harbor at Steveston.

His heart was full of love for the people in his life--granddaughter Taylor, the apple of his eye, his wife, his daughters, his sons, his sister-my mom, his friend and brother-in-law, my dad, and his friend and nephew, my brother. Other nieces and nephews:
Greg, Cheryl, Rick, Reg, and Jen. And of course, his friends--the ones not related to him, I mean. How he treasured his friends!

There were blue skies overhead, gulls screeching, and the smell of fish was pungent on the dock. We were together, in the city we both loved best, making the most of every minute. Life was sweet, and fleeting, and we both knew it.

Today, my heart is scalded, literally, to think of life without him. But he is with me in those shimmering memories. And on a personal note, I am so very comforted by the knowledge that we will be together in Heaven, our truest home.

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard the wonders which God has prepared for those who love him and are called according to his purpose," the Good Book says.

Uncle Al was called, and loved, and today, he is with God, probably playing tennis or mountain biking, laughing with Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Gladys. When I join him in Heaven someday, I have a feeling I know what people are going to say: "That's your uncle?" "Yes," I'll say. "He's one of God's greatest gifts to me."