My dad had only one sibling, a brother, James, who died at 42 leaving 3 small children and my Aunt Jackie. I remember standing in the laundry room when my dad told me. I gave him a hug. He had just been to tell his mom that her youngest child had died suddenly. It almost killed him to do so. I think it was the only time I saw my dad cry.
I asked my cousins, who always called my dad Unk, if they had any stories about my dad they might want to share. Tim, the fabulous middle child (ahem), who I adore adore adore, tells a story of his last visit with my dad. I won’t change his words. They are perfect.