It was past midday of Saturday the 3rd of December, when my mother abruptly opened the door of my room and without hesitation or euphemisms, she told me that my great uncle Claudio had passed away that morning. A heart attack or lung failure had sent him off this world.
If you’re reading this, surely you already know the feeling. The crushing weight that suddenly appears on your shoulders and an ache in the heart, as if it was being squeezed. Of course to anyone who knew my uncle, this was not something entirely unexpected. The man barely exercised at all, and by at all, I mean he didn’t leave the house on his own by what? A year or something? Perhaps more. But when the subject was eating or drinking, that was a thing entirely different in its own.
As to what little I knew from my uncle, he never really cared about making money or saving it even. Each and every day, was a day to eat, drink and to laugh in the company of his friends who passed by the pub that he had rented. Years and years of it.
Eventually a day came where his health began to fail. Difficulties while walking, problems while sleeping and internal ones as well. But that did not stop my uncle from performing his daily rituals. Sure a day or another he had to put himself to rest because of the hangover, but after a day or two he would be back, good as new and always well-disposed.
What I liked about my uncle is that his spirit was never grim. He was always full of joy, either with or without the alcohol. While I worked there, he’d often give me some advice, since he worked in pubs in the majority of his working life. Rare was the time that he was grumpy. His laughter and out of tune singing will be the things about him that I’ll miss the most.
Farewell, my uncle.