This past weekend my family again gathered to celebrate my great aunt’s life. This time we were joined at the retirement community where she spent the last years of her life by many more friends. Those who couldn’t join us sent their love.
He and my mother shared memories of my great grandparents, stories I’ve never heard or only vaguely remember. My great grandfather owned an apartment building on
My memories of my uncle are of a vigorous, tall lanky man with a large pot belly (and an embarrassingly hairy chest). By the age of 55 my uncle had suffered at least one heart attack and one stroke. He also had severe hypothyroidism and refused to accept a diagnosis of depression. This combination proved to be lethal.
That night we started putting all these pieces together. With Linda, my mother and my own experience I feel confidant that he had celiac as well. It makes me so sad to think that he could have lived a better life, been spared much of his suffering had he known. But knowing that I have found a solution, that I won’t travel the same downward spiraling road is a relief.