This weekend we say goodbye to my Uncle Brian, who passed away a few weeks ago. This photo was from 2012, the last time I saw him. At the time, the effects of disease had started to become obvious, and physically he had changed a tremendous amount from the man who had danced at our wedding just 6 years prior. But his smile, his pipe, and the twinkle in his eye was still there.

Due to geography, I only ever really saw my Uncle Brian every few years at best. Despite the distance, I always felt a closeness. He was a lifelong lover of boats, having owned many, including 2 he and Rosemary restored from wrecks. He’d owned and sailed on all kinds of crafts, from sailing canoes to a large sailing yachts and in later years, canal boats. His garden was expansive, particularly the fruit orchards. He loved all things mechanical, having worked on cars since he was a teen, and had been the second owner (his uncle being the first) of the 1954 Velocette motorbike that now resides in my garage. On many topics, he’d love to share some knowledge, an anecdote, or even better to pull out a well worn reference book or photo album. And he had a sharp wit. He loved to tease and make puns.

I’ll miss him. It makes me sad to think I’ll never be sitting in his workshop again while he rummages around, explaining one thing while looking for something to show me related to the thing we were talking about 15 minutes ago. It makes me sad the girls will never know him. But I’m relieved he is no longer suffering.

And I have new resolve to get the old Velocette running well. He would have had it figured out long ago. I’ll be pulling out the old tool roll he gave me and trying to channel that amazing knowledge and experience… and then riding with my knees pressed up against the same worn paint his did.

The wake was Friday and the internment is in just a few hours. The times in between have been mostly spent with my amazing Auntie Rosemary, his brothers Keith, Robert and (my dad) Malcolm, their wives, and my cousin, Martin. From the funeral, with distant relatives discussing genealogy, and many stories about adventures on boats and travel, to the pictures of him playing in a skiffle band 60 years ago, to just puttering about the house with his brothers, I kept thinking about the person who would perhaps most love to be there was the person whose passing we were honoring and whose life we were celebrating.