Uncle Stan

I got the call yesterday. Stan, my uncle, died Monday night, at peace with family by his side.

Stan was diagnosed with Leukemia late last spring. His treatment went well over the summer, but as fall came he took a drastic turn for the worse. This time treatment was not as effective, and after a while, the doctors had done all they could do.

I think I've seen enough at this point to know what it means when hospitals send patients home, or stop treatment in the face of ever-worsening conditions. If nothing else, and despite my prayers, that was a time when I began to think this was really it.

Last Christmas, not even a year ago, my family went down from our cabin in Tennessee to the hills of Atlanta to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins.



There's Stan, standing tall in the middle (using the truck for a boost).

Right now there are a lot of emails, giving a kind of mini-eulogy series to the life of Stan....

"what a fight he fought. what a warrior he was. and he fought the fight with the greatest of spirit and grace. i know, because we all watched him do this and felt it every time we talked. he never once complained, he never felt sorry for Stan. through it all, he was an inspiration to me while he put on display 'when things get tough, this is how it can be done.' what a role model!"

"I loved Stan and thought he was a great person and someone who gave me the greatest warmth and welcome whenever I saw him. I will surely miss him."

"Never a selfish thought, always wanting to help everyone, caring for his family and friends. He loved his God and spoke often about making the right choices, being ready to meet the father and study the word.... Stan was a leader, sounding board, a shoulder, and most of all a beacon of light that reopen my eyes for the love Christ."

I think I'm still processing. This was sudden and yet not unexpected. Stan's fight was strong and brave, and yet here we are. I don't question God during these times. I've long since accepted death as a part of life and the uncertainty in life about when death will become part of it.

It is loss that is always so hard to deal with. It is the separation. It is the part of Stan that I will take with me, but now know that I must take with me. Stan was a good man. He was a good uncle, a good father and husband. Despite my being in seminary, Stan and I didn't really talk about faith. It was as though there was some basic assumption and recognition there. Something in two people of faith remained shared yet undiscussed.

I don't want to claim Stan to be a warrior, or a saint, or the greatest person on the planet. I think to negate Stan's faults negates his person. I want to remember Stan for who he was. He was a great person because of his strengths AND his weknesses. Strength has no meaning if there are no weaknesses. I never knew Stan to run from his weaknesses, and that is perhaps the best strength anyone could ask for.

We will miss you Stan.