A Battle Lost

In my job I deal with critically ill patients. As a nurse I have learned to accept the inevitable when battles are lost to save lives. Accepting loss doesn't mean it makes loosing any easier.

I received word that my Uncle Leonard lost his battle with liver cancer. He fought a good fight and was (through the grace of God) able to live over a year and a half past his diagnosis date. He lived the last days of his life well. He faced his terminal condition and the time he had left with dignity and with a spirit of living each day to the fullest. He leaves behind his beautiful wife Ann, four adult children, his grandchildren and a host of family members and friends who will miss him dearly.

(picture of James Dean) One of my fondest recollections of Uncle Leonard was that of a young man which was captured in a picture taken of him shortly before he married my Aunt. He was wearing a lettermans jacket, had a cigarette dangling from his lip, and had a James Dean hairstyle modified by a single unruly lock that hung over one eye. Grandma wasn't too sure about the "bad boy" image he projected at the time. He was wrapped around my Aunt's finger though (I did say she was beautiful), and try as he might to retain his independent image, love won out and the bad boy look began to fade like the picture's image did over time. Love also won over Grandma (whom Uncle Leonard doted on until the day she died) and shortly after that picture was taken I was dressed in a little frilly dress and carrying flowers at their wedding. He quickly grew into his new role as a family man, becoming a family mover and shaker. He was a hard worker and provided well for his family and was quick to help the extended family during hard times.

Uncle Leonard you are loved very much and will be missed by all who had the honor of knowing you.

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