(no subject)
Jan. 18th, 2012 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
opusculusWell, my uncle died yesterday.
It's not a huge surprise when it comes down to it. He was in his late seventies/early eighties, and over the last several years, it'd been increasingly obvious that he was starting to slide. When I heard that he was in the hospital a few days ago...well. I wasn't shocked when I heard the news.
He was a really nice guy, though. Your stereotypical CA surfer beach bum with a way more than stereotypical interest in books, who always had time for a nice philosophical conversation on the history of atheism and was one of the first people to tell me it was okay to not believe in God when I was really upset about...eh, it's a tediously personal story. He dealt really gracefully with being disliked by my family for being much older than my aunt and never having a job that wasn't trying and failing to sell his really obscure literary/philosophical writing. I've always sort of idolized my aunt for being a really left-wing entrepreneur who didn't take over the family business but made her own, but him being the one to raise the kids definitely made it easier on her. It couldn't have always been easy being the artistic house husband back in the 70s and 80s (though granted, Santa Cruz probably makes it easier than most.)
I can't say I knew him all that well, since my dad never liked him and even when I had the freedom just to drive up, I never got up to visit them as often or as long as I would have liked. But the home he and my aunt created has always been a haven for me, and it's strange to think of how it changes in his absence. Saying he was a nice guy feels like damning with faint praise as a way to sum up a lifetime, but when it comes down to it, there's not a lot of people I can think of who I really have faith to generally be just nice and caring people. Now, I guess, there's one less in the world.
It's not a huge surprise when it comes down to it. He was in his late seventies/early eighties, and over the last several years, it'd been increasingly obvious that he was starting to slide. When I heard that he was in the hospital a few days ago...well. I wasn't shocked when I heard the news.
He was a really nice guy, though. Your stereotypical CA surfer beach bum with a way more than stereotypical interest in books, who always had time for a nice philosophical conversation on the history of atheism and was one of the first people to tell me it was okay to not believe in God when I was really upset about...eh, it's a tediously personal story. He dealt really gracefully with being disliked by my family for being much older than my aunt and never having a job that wasn't trying and failing to sell his really obscure literary/philosophical writing. I've always sort of idolized my aunt for being a really left-wing entrepreneur who didn't take over the family business but made her own, but him being the one to raise the kids definitely made it easier on her. It couldn't have always been easy being the artistic house husband back in the 70s and 80s (though granted, Santa Cruz probably makes it easier than most.)
I can't say I knew him all that well, since my dad never liked him and even when I had the freedom just to drive up, I never got up to visit them as often or as long as I would have liked. But the home he and my aunt created has always been a haven for me, and it's strange to think of how it changes in his absence. Saying he was a nice guy feels like damning with faint praise as a way to sum up a lifetime, but when it comes down to it, there's not a lot of people I can think of who I really have faith to generally be just nice and caring people. Now, I guess, there's one less in the world.
