My parents divorced when I was four or five years old, and for several years I lived with my mom in a single parent house. This post is not about that.
My Uncle Dave, my mom, my Uncle Danny, and my Grandma Colleen (seated).
At various times my mom’s two younger brothers lived with us for short periods. My Uncle Danny was a guy I looked up to almost like an older brother, and when I was a teenager, he became my friend as well as my uncle. My Uncle David was someone that I also respected and shared things with: our love of computers and video games, Star Frontiers, fishing, and other things. As kids, whenever we saw Uncle Dave grab his car keys, we would ask , “Where are you going, Uncle Dave?” He would jokingly reply, “To hell if I don’t change my ways.” Just like Danny, Dave is something of a comedian. I got part of my sense of humor from both of them. So now you know who to blame.
Uncle Danny, Me, and Uncle Don displaying our particular brand of humor
My Uncle Don had a conversation with Dave this week and he seems pretty sure that Dave has trusted in Christ, and so will indeed go to heaven when he dies, no matter what Dave told us as kids. That is welcome news, as it means that when Dave does die, it will only be a temporary separation.
This is the 1976 Camaro that David and I restored. He did the body work and I helped with the interior.
About ten or so years ago my Uncle Dave was in the hospital for a cardiac procedure. I visited him, and we talked for a while about nothing much. Then he fell asleep. I think it was the pain medication. But here I sit in his hospital room again. A different room this time, and his condition is such that we can’t really have a conversation. And that’s a shame.
I wish I could tell him how much I love him. I wish I could tell him how much I’m going to miss hearing his voice and his sense of humor. The doctors seem pretty sure that Dave doesn’t have much longer to live, but I know that since he has trusted Christ, he will never truly die. We will just be separated for a while.
Danny and David used to tease me when I was a kid as only uncles can do. I think that when Dave dies and they have time to put their heads together up there, I may have some surprises waiting for me when I arrive. But one thing I will not be surprised by is the joy of being with my two uncles again who have gone on before me.
John 11:25-26 “I am the resurrection and the life. He who who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die.”
EDIT: Here’s another photo of David working on the same car: 
Words of Truth 
I can relate to this. I have an aunt with whom I was very close. She was still living at home when I was born, and my parents lived right next door. So, we were ALWAYS with her when we were little. I have so very many heartwarming memories. She died after a long terminal illness in April at age 51. But, she accepted Jesus as her savior not long after she learned of her fate. So, at her funeral…we were crying for us. Not for her because we know she is with Jesus now.
You and your family will be in my prayers. Even though we don’t have to mourn as those with no hope….we still mourn.
“But here I sit in his hospital room again. A different room this time, and his condition is such that we can’t really have a conversation. And that’s a shame.
I wish I could tell him how much I love him. I wish I could tell him how much I’m going to miss hearing his voice and his sense of humor.”
If he’s still with you, talk to him and tell him what you want him to hear. He may be/probably can be able to hear you, even if he can’t give any sign of doing so. Many people have regained consciousness and said they could hear their people talking to them, even though the patient seemed to be in a deep coma. Your grandfather Francis was clinically “dead” (and completely non-responsive) for some time, yet when his condition “improved” he related verbatim conversations between the medical staff who were attending him, and fine detail of what happened while he was out. He said he was watching everything from “up near the cieling” and it was verified that he knew exactly what was going on and being said.
Melodee tells of a case where a grannie was “dead” and if the staff hadn’t had to attend another critical patient, would have been in a body bag. Then she regained consciousness, and when the staff noticed, she said, “You gave up on me, didn’t you.” (Ask her about it – I get details wrong sometimes.)
So… if he’s still here, tell him what you want him to hear. All of it. God will take care of the rest.