Last week my Uncle Keith passed. My mother was the oldest in a family of three, and Keith was the middle child. When my dad was fighting in Korea, we lived in a small apartment above the deli across the street from the furniture store Uncle Keith owned in Falls Creek PA, my POB. Those early years of my life, Uncle Keith was my surrogate father, and that bond gave me pieces of who I am, I have treasured all my life. When my dad returned from war, he moved us to the South telling everyone “I’ll never shovel snow again”, and for the rest of my life Uncle Keith and I shared only random moments during trips back to Falls Creek.
I loved riding up the hill on Uncle Keith’s tractor to pick apples, or hunting night crawlers with him just as the sun was coming up. Last week I felt him let go of my hand as we walked by the railroad tracks, and heard his voice, “Billy, hear the train whistle?”, as he handed me a penny to place on the tracks. I’ll miss you Uncle Keith, but you have left me more than just memories, you are a part of me, and I am a part of you passing life moments on forever…
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