remembering

I went to a church yesterday that made me think back to childhood memories at our cottage. At this church we sat outside with other families with children. The day was beautiful and Fyn slept on my chest as we listened to the sound system set up outside. A man's voice came on that reminded me of the voices of the cottage.

My grandma's brothers all shared the voice of the speaker who talked of his mission trips to far off lands. His voice so similar to my Uncle Don, my great uncle that passed so suddenly three weeks ago, and his message so familiar. His voice echoing childhood voices I grew up with at cottage functions, but had fallen out of touch with for so many years.

I met Don all over again last fall as he was taking on the challenge of my father. He said he understood the battle with alcoholism my dad has succumbed to and he was willing to look out for this man that was once a baby in his arms. This challenge is understood by many people that have witnessed the damage this disease brings to family and loved ones. I respect my uncle's desire to help this man that refuses help.

Reaching back into those memories took me to a cottage on a lake where so many happy memories were created. My Uncle Gordy returned to my thoughts as I remembered his stories of my Uncle Don. Gordy was my childhood companion, one of the magical people that never seem to grow beyond childhood mentally. We spent summer nights sitting beneath magnificent skies listening to baseball games on the radio. Between innings he talked of his brothers and sisters, their kids, and grandkids. I remember the love in his voice as he talked of his incredible family.