are for your prayers for a man I love so dearly......my Uncle Patsy.
Last night, as we stood by his bedside as he struggled to take each breath, the carolers sang in the hallway. In his gentlemanly way, he tried to sing along. It came from his heart...as it always does. Remember this story from last year....?
Please pray that God, in his mercy, gives my dear, sweet Uncle Pat the peace and comfort that he so deserves.
This moment has come too quickly. Too much by surprise.
Funny thing....when the call came....it didn't matter that I hadn't finished shopping or wrapping or cooking.
Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.
My uncle's merry, Irish blue eyes are fading.
His sense of humor--despite his situation--is still in tact.
He still responds in jest...his off-color sayings, his wickedly loving jabs-- despite his illness and his dire circumstances--remain.
Perhaps it's his reward for a life lived in the fast lane but never missing Mass--no matter how many shots of good Irish whiskey he consumed the night before.
I'd like to think God is saying "Patsy, you weren't a bad boy afterall" and my uncle is trying to hold on to his image and prove God wrong.
Over the past 2 years, I've told you so much about him......here's a few reminders....
When Irish Eyes are Smiling
Where the Boys Are
Telling you all about Uncle Patsy was the easy part.
Now, we just have to tell my father.....
I'll be leaving here shortly to take my father to Mass....a place where I know he can hear what I have to say.
I just can't stop thinking about the Christmas Eve when Uncle Patsy drove across town--in a snow storm--with the top of his fancy convertible down--so that my sisters and I could have our new organ to play Christmas carols for him.....
It brings me a smile.
Memories....that's what Christmas is all about.
After you say your prayers for my uncle, please go out and make some memories.
Everything matters. Except for the wrapping and shopping and cooking I didn't get done.