My uncle passed away earlier this week, at the tender age of 62. I am filled with thoughts of family, especially because I don't see them as often as I should. Tito Gerry lived in Manila (in the Philippines), so it wasn't exactly an easy visit to coordinate, but I could've made a better effort to connect.He was my father's brother, and the family resemblance extended beyond appearance. They both enjoyed a good drink and an even better joke. Laughing was a must around them.
Most importantly, both were incredibly generous. My uncle was the type who would walk out of a bar with a pocket full of 500-peso bills, turn to the nearest beggar, and hand him one. This would attract the beggar's friends...and Tito Gerry would give one to each of them too. Eventually, he'd reach the end of his cash roll, sometimes before he'd finished giving one to everyone. When this occurred, he'd look down, mutter "$#!+", walk to the nearest ATM machine, and get more money to hand out.
My mind also drifts to selfish thoughts. Garcia men are not known for their longevity. Of the five boys on my father's side, three have already passed. They didn't take very good care of themselves though...and this is where I am reminded of the importance of staying active and taking good care of my body. I'm a walking clone of my father, so chances are that the Garcia blood runs strong in my veins. It seems that part of the 'fight of my life' is going to have to be against my own genes.
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