Tomorrow I'm heading off to Parksville to celebrate the end of an amazing era. My Dad's 98-year-old brother - my Uncle Alan - died awhile ago. This Saturday the Traynor clan is gathering for his memorial service.
Alan was the last remaining of the five Traynor brothers. They were orphaned in 1917 and raised by a remarkable young woman who kept them all together.
Alan was a gentleman and a grand patriarch. I was lucky to have gotten to know him well in recent years and I treasure the visits we had.
And to die at 98, in your own bed, with all your faculties and surrounded by loved ones is a pretty good way to go.
Farewell Uncle Alan.