My dad just called me at work to tell me his brother - my uncle - died today. Well, they can't be sure it was today: they found him this morning. He was 95 and in reasonable health. Logically, I know that 95 is a wonderful age, but it's hit me that this was my dad's brother. Dad's sister died two years ago: he's the only one left. He's 86 and again, I know that's old, and I know I have to face that, but this is bringing this all home to me.
Dad's devastated. They were very close. Had some horrible fallings out, and lived several hundred miles away from each other, but spoke every other day.