This is a reflective piece on the upcoming death of a great-uncle and the past death of a grandmother. It also includes rambling about desks.

It was the middle of Social Studies. I was sitting in the desk that I really hated. It was written on, graffiti. I hate people that do that. I clean the desks, after all. I have a right to be annoyed, pissed. The other reason I loathed this desk was because the chair and desk were connected by a bar on the right side. The only way to get into the desk was to climb over the bar, or approach the desk from the left side. The teacher was babbling about the Medieval Times and charts and graphs and who knows what else. I only like the class because it is easy and the teacher seems cool enough. I spend my x-time-an extra forty-two minute period at the end of the day- with her. I met some of my best friends in her class.

I was leaning back, as best as possible. The desk didn’t really allow for that kind of position. In Chemistry we once had these cool desks. If you leaned back, the back rest would go back and the seat slid forward a little bit. The hard surface of the desk was relatively small. You could fit a single piece of loose-leaf paper on it, and it was hardly comfortable for any left-handed people. A double edged sword, I suppose.

Anyway, enough about the desk descriptions; I know you don’t want to hear them.

My great-uncle was recently ill. I missed soccer practice to baby sit my sister while my parents went to go visit him in the hospital. I was thinking about my grandmother and him, really. They weren’t blood related or anything. My grandmother’s husband was my Great-Uncle’s wife’s brother. Is that complicated? I thought so.

My grandmother passed away approximately two years ago. Of course, I was stricken with grief but my grandmother was better off dead. Now, I don’t mean to sound like a bad granddaughter or anything, but she looked old and she was in a lot of pain.

However, my Great-Uncle was not in a lot of pain. Sad, but true, they think he won’t make it past the weekend. I think now of everything he had going for him. He loved to eat Friendly’s Chili. We would visit the cemetery and my Great-Aunt would take us to Friendly’s for ice cream. It was August, but he insisted on eating the Chili. He always made me laugh and liked music. I sometimes think I belong to that family. I don’t fit in too well over here.

I’m going to miss him when he is gone.