Uncle Charlie, R.I.P.

Mom told me today that her brother, my Uncle Charlie, died today. He was one of nine children in my mother's very busy Philadelphia Catholic girlhood home. In that home, you were very much loved and you knew it because you were very much teased. He married Aunt Joan and they went on to have and raise eleven children. On my mother's side alone, I am one of about 50 first cousins. Large thanks to Charlie and Joan. I barely knew that wing of the cousins. There were only three daughters in the whole crew and all I remember were rambunctious, loud, fun-loving boys being all elbows and knees everywhere.

Several years ago I attended my cousin Marianne's funeral. Uncle Charlie was there as were all the aunties and uncles. Dave and I didn't have any children just then, but we were fixin' to start a family. I earnestly asked him, "Uncle Charlie, what was the hardest thing about having 11 children?"

He raised an eyebrow, paused and broke into a bawdy grin, and replied with a hearty laugh, "You really have to ask?"

It seems fitting, somehow, that this larger-than-life and full-of-good-humor man would leave on Fat Tuesday. Ashes are for mourners. Here's hoping that he's enjoying a reunion with Aunts Mary and Margaret, Uncle Joe, Grandmom and Grandpop and many, many others.