My Uncle John died.

He had pancreatic cancer. Or prostate cancer. I'm pretty sure it was pancreatic. I'm too out of it to remember, right now. Apparently, he died Wednesday after spending the last week in a semi-comatose state. My family is so frigging dysfunctional that I'm the only one in the entire state no one thought to notify so that I could say goodbye. My mom was on the road conducting a seminar, and my phone number was somehow deleted from her Palm, so she had no way of contacting me, she said. I don't know why she didn't call my brother and ask for my number, but since it was her brother who died, I'm not going to give her shit for it. Especially since he was the one in her family she was closest to - the only one she really had a good and/or close relationship with - and she's lost him. That'd be pretty freaking tactless/crappy/narcissistic of me to bitch at her for not finding a way to reach me. I feel really badly for her. For her part, she sounds pretty angry at his significant other. I'm staying out of that part of things, you betcha.

I called Uncle John about 3 months ago. I was skimming through my cell phone contacts looking for something else, and when I got to his name in the list, I thought, you know, i haven't talked to him in a long time - I should call. I got to talk to him for maybe 10 minutes, at the end of which I told him I loved him, which I really don't think I'd ever done in my entire life. I might have, but I can't remember it. But I did then, and I'm glad I did, since it turns out that was the last time I spoke to him.

They're having a Halloween party next door. A really loud, 200+ people, cars lining the street (the entire length of which is a no parking zone, especially during red flag fire days, which we are in now) for blocks. It's been going strong since 9pm, and it's 1:30 now, with no end in sight. They're all 20something idiots who seem never to have had a drink in their lives.

I'm so not in the mood for it.

katie