Until last night, I've never lost an uncle or aunt to death. (With six divorces among my parents' siblings, I've lost contact with some of the uncles and aunts by marriage--but not by death.) Our parents are still relatively young. Diane's parents and my parents are all four 66-68. So we hadn't had to face the passing of their generation. My Uncle Channing was, of my parents' brothers and sisters, the one I knew least. He was a bit of an enigma to me. But here's what I am proudest of: he rose to the occasion of his wife's battle with Alzheimer's. He became so kind and gentle. He respectfully ushered her around and cared for her. At this point, she may not know that he's gone. But even with her growing fog, he loved her as he'd promised so long ago.