The Record of a Life

My dear uncle is 91 years old and the last person in my family in the generation before me.  He recently moved from an independent apartment to the nursing home of the senior residence in which he lives.  He skipped over "assisted living," because he stayed in his apartment until he could no longer make it to the kitchen to fix meals or even crawl to the bathroom.  He has no children....just four nephews and one niece, and that would be me.


I spent the last six days sorting, packing, giving things to charity, throwing things out, and getting his apartment cleared out.  I could have never done this on my own, as the task was gargantuan.   I think he saved every piece of paper he ever wrote anything on.  Fortunately, my two cousins and the wife of one of them, one of my brothers and his wife, and my long-suffering husband helped.


Although we were focused on the task, we were all cognizant that we were pawing through the record of a life-time.  We found pictures of him as a baby, grade school report cards, his high school diploma, college notes, and letters written to him during World War II when he served on a hospital ship in the Pacific Ocean.  He has no children and our generation was unaware of him ever dating or bringing a young lady to family events, but we found a picture of him with a young woman wearing a corsage definitely looking like they were going on a date.


We found sketches from his days as an engineer on cooling systems, pay stubs going back decades, old resumes, and photos of him taken when he was sent to Aruba on business back in the 1950s when most people in New York had probably not heard of Aruba.


One entire cupboard in the kitchen was filled with empty jars.  Why he was saving them is anybody's guess.  He apparently purchased paper towels in large quantities.  The number we found would have lasted him years.  The refrigerator was full of unopened canned goods.   Why he kept unopened cans there is also a mystery.


We didn't have time to read all of them, but there were notes everywhere.  All of his paid bills were returned to the envelopes and had notes on the outside....his commentary on the economy or a description of the phone call he had had with a customer service rep regarding the bill.  Mixed in with the bills and bank statements were scraps of paper on which he had written notes about books he read or TV programs he watched.  I discovered several sheets of paper clipped together on which he had rated each of his nephews and his niece (yours truly) based on our willingness to help our parents, dedication to family, and community service.  I think I'd better burn that one.  After rambling on and pondering leaving us percentages of his assets based on our "scores," in the end he decided to treat us equally in his will.


I expect he doesn't have much longer to live.  He has been battling cancer for about 7 years and cannot tolerate any more chemo.  Last week he turned down a blood transfusion and asked that Hospice be called.  He told me that he sees no point in being pulled back from the brink any more.  Yesterday he refused to get out of bed, saying he was too weak.


He has lived a long life....but, I'm not sure it has been a happy one.  He claims he was a "loner," but he does love to talk to others.  And yet, very few people in the independent living area knew him.  He kept to himself.  But I wonder, for whom did he write all of those notes?  There were certainly some that he never intended anyone to see, but others that he may have hoped someone would appreciate.


He is and was an enigma.  But, we...his nephews and niece...all have fond memories of times spent with him, and when he is gone, I will miss him.