Today we attended the funeral for my husband's Uncle. He was the last of eight siblings to pass on. He was a twin. His nickname was Bob. He lived in a nursing home for 13 years. I never spoke a word to him. He and his twin always lived together. Neither married. The brothers would go to my in laws to visit once in awhile. Bob always stayed in the car. Everyone acted like it was normal. Bob did not always want to talk to people. He was a loner. Thirty-five years in the family and I never met my husband's Uncle. We attended a few family gatherings together. The "boys" just did not visit with anyone but their siblings.
We went to the funeral home today expecting 8-9 people. Feeling some guilt because Uncle Bob had lived this solitary life. We were surprised to find out there were people in Bob's life. Several ladies from the nursing home came. They had stories about Bob. He had a sense of humor. When they opened his lock box, there was a banana peel rotting in the box. There were a couple of friends. A Pastor that started visiting him several years ago and now called him friend. He also had a relationship with the Pastor from his church. He had a small circle of people. I felt better knowing that.
Thirteen years ago Bob lost his twin, Bill. I imagine Monday, Bill was waiting for Bob at the gates. Grandma was happy to have her last child join her. The eight of them together again. They were all devoted Lutherans. They knew they were all going to end up together again.
Bob was 84 years old. We were able to celebrate his life. Remember a strong family. Secure in the knowledge that Bob was with his family again.
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