[Uncle Bazzell, Mom (looking less than happy) and Uncle Burnice]
Yesterday evening I learned that Mom's brother, our Uncle Burnice Cowan, had passed away the night before, July 20th, about 10:30 PM. He had been recovering from a triple bypass in January and was waiting for better conditions to have a pacemaker put in. He was 82.
My first thought after the surprise and sadness was that the last family witness of Mom's early life was gone, and that any questions or stories that we might have asked about her will go unanswered forever in this world. He was a genial presence when he was around, at holidays, weddings, and funerals, but we never got particularly close to him (his long distance home partly saw to that). I always liked him; he was the family glue of the Cowans and even took up tracking and tracing the genealogy. I feel sorry for Aunt Sylvia, his sons Chris and Mark, and his grandchildren, whom we last saw at Kelesy's wedding, and I know something of what they must be going through. He had a good run, lasting the longest of Nanny's kids. My final rather selfish thought is wondering if he ever had a chance to read my book.
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