“Bollocks”

Our week was not as expected.

My dear uncle, perhaps the smartest man I knew, suffered a stroke. When I saw him last he wasn’t the witty Uncle Pat I knew. He wasn’t leaning in to share a dry remark. He wasn’t curling or sitting watching sports or supervising the rest of us playing cards or Scrabble. There was no Guinness in hand.

Although not his usual self, one thing remained the same: he was surrounded by those who love him. This husband. Father. Grandfather. Uncle. Brother. Brother-in-law. Teacher. Friend. Sports fanatic. Trivia master. Food connoisseur. Wordsmith.

He took his last breath on Saturday. One of his last audible words earlier in the week after he was told he had suffered a stroke: “bollocks.” Fitting if you knew my Irish uncle.

Rest in peace Patrick. You will be missed.

6 thoughts on ““Bollocks”

  1. Eileen Mc Guiggan

    Karen, you have so succinctly conjured up your Uncle Pat. Pat’s sister, Ann, and myself spent a year in Edmonton ( the year Colm was born!) and I have such special memories of Rosemarie and him and of course you and your two brothers and your mum and dad. He loved being in all your company. He will most certainly be missed by so many and so much by Rosemarie. I know she has a wonderful family around her. Love and thoughts to you all at this time of great loss. X

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