It has been six years since my uncle died. Just like every October 1st, I'm standing here at his grave. His wife decided to keep up the family tradition of cremating the body, and even though his body wasn't buried, a tombstone was still placed at the cemetery.
My uncle was only 34 when he died. He was a loving son, brother, husband, and father. His daughters were only three and nine years old. He was the healthiest person I knew. It only took a fall from the second story of a house and a hit to the head to kill him.
Even now his younger daughter still doesn't know where her dad is. She thinks that he ran away, and she keeps waiting for him to come home.. Little does she know is her daddy is no longer in this world with us.
What pains me the most is that only my mom, aunt, and grandma cried over my uncle's death.
His other siblings didn't even care that he left behind two little girls, under the age of 10. They only cared about the money he left behind.
It has been really hard for my aunty to take care of her daughters. Making enough money for food and other necessities has been difficult. She didn't remarry and we all know how hard it is to be a single parent, especially when you have two kids to take care of.
Things got harder in Vancouver, so my aunt sold the house and moved to Newton. They have seen living there since.
As I was getting ready to leave I noticed a man walking towards where I sat. On one usually comes to the cemetery this early so it felt strange seeing the man. I sort of felt afraid. But as...