My uncle just passed away. He’s the first of my mom’s siblings to go. I still struggle to sit with death. I haven’t seen him in years. Still, I feel like I should feel something. Yet, it remains unfamiliar, always one person removed. I used to think that meant I didn’t know grief. But maybe that’s not true. What is grief, if not love with nowhere to go? Love for someone, or for what could’ve been; whether real, or only imagined. I wonder how my mom feels. I don’t know why I hesitate to call.