Sad Socks

So I just put on my Uncle Ray's socks. He died last Wednesday. My mom brought a bunch of his clothes home from her sister's house for my dad, two brother-in-laws and me to go through. I don't think he wore them, but the simple thought of my uncle putting on his socks was silly but really heavy. Seeing all his clothes in my mom's van just piled up in the back seat, I felt like we should hold a memorial for him before we moved them. I didn't know my Uncle Ray really well, but he and my dad were always really funny at family events. His wife (my mom's sister) is as amazing as my mom, and their two kids and their families are very wonderful, so I know he had to be wonderful, too. I had a lot of respect for Ray, and I think that is why I felt the way I did looking at his clothes. He used to wear them. He picked them out, or someone picked them out with him in mind. He wore them. He put his arms through the sleeves and buttoned the buttons. I had the same feeling when my Grandpa Jamesy died about 8 years ago... only it was his tighty whities, and after the memorial I held in my head I couldn't help but laugh. But looking at Uncle Ray's clothes in he back of the van made me feel the weight of my family member dying. It reminded me trial God tested my Uncle Ray with in his short-yet-long fight with cancer and also the trials my aunt and cousins still have to go through. So, I've decided that everytime I wear these socks I'm going to hold a memorial for my late Uncle Ray and ask for more grace for my family.

- Alex