Tonight I went to visit you for the last time. This time you didn't tell me any old stories anymore with twinkling eyes. You couldn't take me outside and show me some of your growing grapes on the vines that were just outside before the veranda was built. You didn't offer me any sweets from the famous candy closet in the living room. You didn't teach me any Latin where I had to admit that my knowledge of Latin was too limited to talk to you in your favorite language. Tonight you were beyond fragility and silence.
My eyes kept being drawn to the empty chair in the kitchen. You've always lived in this house, from birth to death. You belonged to the house. A couple of years ago your children asked which present you'd like for your anniversay and you answered "a new wheelbarrow". But there will be no more pictures in the famous pose with the wheelbarrow full of grandchildren...more recently full of great-grandchildren. Many images and memories whirle through my mind tonight: my baptism pictures, us talking on my confirmation party, me reading new years letter's too you always ending them with a solemn "your godchild".... They'll be saved in my heart.
Farewell uncle, farewell godfather.... I will miss you.