He was from a small town in Wyoming, spent twenty years in the Navy, and returned to that same small town in Wyoming where he bought the farm next to his father's.
He was the husband of my beloved aunt, my mother's only sister. In his later years he became rather crotchety, according to his daughter, but I'll never forget how he chased me down after I got my finger embedded in the twines of a music box and was running screaming through his house (we were visiting). My uncle was fond of getting comfortable after work. He'd get down to his skivvies in the summer or his thermals in the winter and was never bothered to greet company however he was dressed.
So many of my childhood memories are tied to these dear people in Wyoming. We spent a couple of summers with them. One was the summer after my mother died. My cousin and I were very close, and my aunt suggested that I stay there for the school year. My father didn't want to split my little sister and I up, so I didn't get to stay. I was brokenhearted at the time, but I can see now my father's wisdom. My poor uncle, though. He liked to put honey in his morning coffee. My little sister thought it was funny to put a bunch of salt in the honey. It only took twice and he was able to convince not to ever do that again.
My sweet cousin, who in so many ways was another sister to me, said it best. He's in a better place now where there's a happy reunion going on with my aunt and their son who went before. She and I are both Harry Potter fans, and I think she'd agree he's gone on to his next, great adventure.
Even so, he leaves a huge hole.
Love you, Uncle Ned.
