My cousin Bob worked at the Tamarack in Portage and every time we were in town (which is usually a couple times a year) we stop in and say hello.
One night we went in and asked 'Is Bob working?' The waitress said 'Who?' We replied 'Bob.' The name didn't register at first until she said 'Oh! You mean Bahb! (said in the finest Wisconsin accent). Who knew there were so many different ways to pronounce Bob?
Bobby passed away Wednesday afternoon from a heart attack. He was only 40. Both his father and grandfather died young from the same. Sad is an understatement.
When my dad called me with news it didn't compute. He said: 'Your cousin Bobby died' and I couldn't put the words together. You see, another of my cousins is very sick at the moment. He's at the end stage of a cancer that spread to numerous organs in his body. That call would have been sad, but it would have made sense. A call about Bobby? Does not compute.
I would love to be there for the service, but I just can't. I mean, physically I could hop in the car today and be there in time but emotionally it's nearly impossible. I am not ready to gather around the family and mourn the passing of another loved one. I need more time. I am also not ready to tell Cha that Cousin Bobby, who we just saw in July has died. There's been far too many death notices in her short life already.
We may go visit for Thanksgiving or wait until next summer and I can tell her then. I just don't know. We both need some time.
Rest in Peace Bob.
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