Uncle Toronado

I have a dear uncle, the husband of my Mother's older sister, who was a fighter pilot in WWII and Korea.  He's now in his '90's.  For decades, he owned and treasured a 1966 Olds Toronado.  I'll call him Uncle Toronado.

He also owned the this t-bird for 20 years after I sold it to him.  It remained non-functional but stored high and dry under his house until he gave it to his son, and then 20 months ago his son sold it back to me.

Yesterday, #1 Son and I drove the t-bird 200 miles to visit Uncle Toronado.  I had dinner with him and my cousins, and spent the night at his house.  They had all gathered together because my Aunt, Uncle Toronado's wife, my Mother's sister, is ill.  Suddenly, unexpectedly, and very likely terminally... ill.

We talked well into the evening.  Uncle was quite taken with how the car turned out, and was very pleased that the car had "come full circle" back to me.   Even though he owned the car for 20 years, he didn't know the full story of how it related to Grandma & Grandpa, my Dad's parents.  Uncle Toronado was flying a P-38 over the Normandy beaches while Grandpa was leading the 8th Infantry on to Utah beach.  Grandpa was killed in action a week later, near Cherbourg, leaving Grandma a war widow.    We talked about what that did to my Dad and his siblings, and how they are still unable to fully grieve that loss.

Uncle Toronado had quite a few close calls himself, of course, but by the grace of God he was able to come home to his family and the woman he loved.  This same woman was laying on a hospital bed, mustering the strength just to keep breathing. 

This morning I took the top off "Nell", and drove Uncle Toronado to the club at his local golf course for breakfast.  My son and my eldest cousin joined us in another car.  Uncle seemed thrilled to ride in this shiny car that he had spent so much time dreaming about.

After breakfast we went to the hospital.  The staff called a family meeting, where they explained the grim facts, one by one.  There is nothing else that they can do.  Putting her back on a ventilator would be painful and unfair.

My Mother in Law's recent cancer journey has made me familiar with this kind of situation.  I sat there in the counseling room with my Uncle and my cousins, not saying anything but feeling their pain.  They were grappling with a difficult decision, and it all depended on Uncle.  This brave and gentle warrior was now facing his biggest life challenge... and it wasn't in combat, it was in his own heart.  How can he possibly let go of the love of his life?

It was heartbreaking, but I felt honored just to be there with them at this most personal moment, to hold Uncle's hand and let him feel my presence.

After the meeting, I went down the hall to visit my dear Auntie in the ICU.  She had regained consciousness but was wearing a pressure mask and couldn't speak.  I told her that I had taken Uncle for a ride in the t-bird, and her eyes smiled at me.  I thanked her for always being so kind to me, and told her how I loved the way she got crazy with my Mom when they got together.  I tried to tell her how much she meant to me.

Then I had to leave, and take my son home.  It was a sad drive, but we took the coast road and it was an absolutely beautiful day!  I was lost in my own memories, but I periodically tried to relate my feelings to my son.  Nell behaved herself nicely, and we got lots of encouraging comments and gestures during the drive.

I'm expecting a sad phone call in the next few days.  I am emotionally exhausted, but I'm extremely grateful for this trip, this memory.

Yes, it's just a car, but today it was a vehicle for something more.

UPDATE 9 January: My dear Auntie Toronado passed away this morning.