The White Balloons

Yesterday , we traveled to my hometown for the funeral of my Uncle Danny . As we gathered to pay our final respects , I thought back to my childhood and how this man had affected my own life . My uncle was a talented carpenter and his home and cottage showcased his woodworking skills . Uncle Danny was a quiet man with a tough exterior . In his youth , he was a well known northern hockey player . He continued that dream with his grandson when he followed their teams from town to town . Over the years my uncle was plagued with poor health . He had a pacemaker and in later years he had diabetes . Through it all he was never a complainer or one to talk about his suffering . He just ... endured . He loved to dance , to joke and he loved music . One of his favorites was Frank Sinatra . It seemed fitting to all who knew him that at the end of the service , we listened to one of his songs , "My Way " . My uncle lived life his way despite all odds . Later at his son's home , I listened to my aunts and uncles , cousins and friends as they remembered a life well lived and well loved . I see my family circle , warm and loving and ever so slowly evolving into a much smaller circle . In my own daughters' characteristics , I recognize and understand the legacy my relatives leave not only to me but to the next generation .
As we stood in the snowy cemetery , for the final blessings , my uncle's daughter released a multitude of white balloons . It was a strange and yet beautiful moment . A symbolic gesture that we were witnesses to his soul ascending to the heavens . We stood in the wet snow and watched until every white balloon disappeared into the gray skies .
Oh Danny boy , the pipes are calling you home . God Bless you always .