**SNIFF**

Uncle Mario passed away a week today.

It still breaks my heart to think of it, to think that I'm never going to see him again. When I went to Mexico last September, it was mostly to see my grandma... She's healthy for her age (92), but she's been on borrowed time for a decade now and I just wanted to make sure I told her all I wanted to... I saw my uncle Mario then, hung out with him... but I never thought that was the last time I was ever going to see him. Now for the life of me I cannot remember if I even took a moment to say I missed him and loved him -- and I'll never have the chance to do that again.

Life sucks.

It's so hard to be so far away from my family, too. In a way, it allows me to be in denial at moments, but it's also making it very hard to deal. Part of me wants to be stoic, but that's just hurting me more. I really don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling and in what order. I just know my dear uncle is dead and I'll never see him again, or hear his jokes or anything. And I didn't have a chance to say goodbye. Worse: I did, but I didn't see it, didn't grab it. And now it's gone forever.

My mum is doing ok, all things considered. She's desolate, as is my dad, who was always really good pals with Uncle Mario, but they're both strong and keeping each other strong. They both know that this is the best that could have happened to Uncle Mario, after the horribly sad condition he was in after his stroke. He's no longer in pain, or sad, or frustrated. He's no longer trapped. He's sleeping. Or somewhere out there, waiting to come back -- I don't know which.

As much as I appreciate them, every sympathy e-card squeezes a little life out of my heart. Writing to my mum yesterday was frankly painful, as was reading her response. We're slowly trying to get back to normal, but the loss lingers over our heads like cloudcover in the middle of winter.

Everything else seems so unimportant now.