Dear Uncle Paul

Uncle Paul,
     Holy Hannah, it's been two years already. I told myself I wasn't going to cry this year, but here I am typing this up and the tears are starting. I am so upset that you're gone. I know I shouldn't be, I'm happy you're not in pain anymore, that you're in Heaven. I'm upset because I never got to know you. Our time together was very brief and you were sick for most of it, and then you got worse and overnight you were gone. I  remember when I first met you at the family reunion in Iowa. I was feeling a little secluded, all those Robucks in one place can be a little crazy and too much for a shy girl like me (those who know me and are reading this probably just laughed at that) but you still came over and spoke to me, you still included me. I remember you trying to tell me the story of the time you "wrestled the Grizzly Bear in the Rockies" but I just laughed because it was such an outlandish story and obviously B.S. then you tried telling me how you "fought an alligator in Florida" only to be met with the same response. I remember thinking that this was one relative I wanted to get to know better, but you were very secluded with no Facebook or cell phone to contact you with. I was not expecting things to change. When Aunt Linda called my mom to tell her your cancer had come back, my world was shattered. I knew something was up because the second my mom got off the phone, she started crying... and my mom is a Robuck, we're strong and we don't cry. When she told me I instantly went to my room to pray, I was scared and didn't know what else to do. When she planned a trip out to see you, I was supposed to come along but at last minute we decided it would be best if I stayed back. I was livid, I mean this could potentially be my last chance to try and get to know you and I was missing out. Thankfully it wasn't my last chance to see you. I remember when we went to go see you in March after your surgery I was so scared to see you. In my mind I thought you were going to be the weak cancer patient and not the funny uncle I saw in Iowa last year. When I was finally convinced to go see you, I was so glad I did. You were sitting up in bed and you were cracking jokes with Bryan and the others, it didn't seem at all like you were dying. After that visit I felt a sense of relief, I had more time! I continued on and I remember going to my youth camp that year and just feeling so close to God, it made me think of you because I wasn't sure if you had been saved or not. I got your number and planned on getting in touch with you, I really did. But as it turns out, I never had the time to contact you. I got home and a week or so later, we were in the car on our way to California to come see you. You had taken a turn for the worst and we came to be with you. We arrived on a Thursday, the sun was bright and shining, perfect California weather. We went to go see you and even brought you a Blizzard from Dairy Queen. You had already been paralyzed , but you were up in bed watching TV and making coherent conversation with us, you even went outside later on in the evening. I forgot that you were at Death's Door. Then the next day things changed... I remember the doctor pulling us all aside and saying you had started the decline and only had a few days left. From there everything blurs together, all I remember is that you were in so much pain and your speech was getting worse... by those last two days you couldn't even talk. I had learned that yes, you had been saved back in April so my heart was at rest knowing that you will for sure be at rest once you finally did pass on. I remember feeling horrible as I would sit there praying that God would go easy on you and just kill you already. Watching you die was a horrible thing, not something I enjoy looking back on, and it is definitely a huge thing that put my faith to God to the test and to be perfectly honest at this point in time, I sincerely hated him for what he was doing to you. That last night with you, I was crying so hard, this was so difficult for me to go through, watching someone I care about go through that... just withering away into nothing. I was sent out of the room, because apparently I was upsetting you, but honestly I don't think you cared. My dad took me and Bryan home and later that night he came in and confirmed that you had finally moved on.
     We planned to have you cremated and your service would be in July. At your funeral service Chris Tomlin's Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone) was played and now I can't even hear that song (or any other similar versions for that matter) without breaking down into tears. Something even more amazing happened at your funeral service. I was saved. The pastor did an Altar Call, something which I feel is totally out of place and inappropriate to do at a funeral, I mean I get that it's a great way to help save people but I just don't agree with it. But anyways, when the pastor did the altar call, I felt such a pressing to go up and acknowledge that I finally accepted Christ as our Lord and Savior, but I remained seated (mainly because I didn't agree with an Altar Call during a funeral, and because my very Mormon Grandma was there and I didn't want to get judged.) I felt so guilty, I didn't even focus on the closing prayer instead I was saying one of my own. One in which I apologized for not doing this publicly but that I was ready to accept Christ. Instant relief flooded over me and I felt so happy. I still miss you but I know you are in a much better place free from all pain and suffering. I also know that one day, when my time here is done I will see you again and we will both be happy, no more pain or suffering. I probably won't even remember your death and the toll it took on me, I'll be free just like you.