Dance After Dark Photography

My uncle passed away this afternoon. Greg lived in New York with his family, so we didn’t see each other often. I can’t say that I was as close to Greg as other members of my family, but he was still one of my favorite uncles. He was like a big kid. I first got to know him at my cousin Ric’s wedding. I’d met Greg before that, but I was too young to really remember and too young to carry on much of a grown-up conversation. Greg played guitar as part of the ceremony. Bluesy, very nice. He taught me about poetry slams, and for a few years after that we e-mailed back and forth regularly. That’s when I really got to know “the Foz.” Greg was a paramedic, and we were afraid we’d lost him as part of the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center. As it turned out, he was across the river responding to the indirect backlash of the catastrophe, and he had no way to let the family know that he was okay.

We still don’t know exactly what happened. Greg had been sick, and he was finally admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. They had to induce a coma to keep him from struggling to take out the breathing tube. He showed signs of coming around two days ago, rolling his eyes when his brother and sister were joking and talking to him in the hospital room. Yesterday he took a turn for the worse, and at 2:00 this afternoon he passed away.

I love you, man. I’m glad I got to know you.

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