A few months ago, on March 27, 2023, my uncle Randy "Hoot" Gibson passed away. He hadn't been sick very long, only a few months, when he was diagnosed with cancer. He fought it hard, and after only a few short months, he passed away.
In the last decade or so, my dad's family has been dealt some pretty heavy losses - my cousin Jimmy Pushard in 2011, grandma Blossom in 2013, Para Fred in 2021, and now uncle Randy. In all cases, we didn't have a funeral, though we did have a family get together of some kind, and in the case of my grandparents, we had a big family memorial over the summer last year. I get that for the Gibsons, funerals just aren't their thing, but in a way I really wish they were. They really give a chance for closure, and just that sense of everyone getting to say goodbye together. But that's just my wish.
I have too many memories of times with uncle Randy to pick one or even a few to start with. He and his family were the only relatives we had who lived in Washington for most of my growing up years, us in Federal Way and them down in Vancouver. One of my earliest memories is celebrating Christmas at their home when I was like 5. It was fun having everyone together like that. He served in the Navy during the Vietnam War, and worked/served in Navy for quite some time afterward. I remember going to his retirement from the Navy years ago, can't remember exactly when. But it was really something to hear all these people get up and talk about how much they admired uncle Randy and enjoyed working with him.
He and my dad were avid Seahawks fans for years, and would take trips from Montana out to Washington to go watch Seahawks games, probably at the Kingdome (the best football stadium ever, in my opinion, though that doesn't mean much coming from someone who only watched sports like three times a year).
He was one of the most genuinely happy guys I've ever met. Every family get together I would look forward to his loud, infectious laugh, his big happy grin, and a "Hey BJ!" from him. He, my dad, and Papa Fred went on a fishing trip together every summer, and I always thought that was a wonderful thing for them to do (not that I'm super into fishing or anything, but that they found a great way to just get away and spend time together).
He and my aunt Sandy were devout Catholics, the only ones in our family. That came in handy when I found some Catholics in our famliy tree, and needed help understanding some of the religious experiences and events in their lives. One of the things I've always admired about my dad's siblings is that, even though they were all different religions, there was nothing but love between them when they got together. Don't get me wrong, there were bumpy times and hard times, but through it all, they stuck together and worked things out in a very admirable way.
It's still hard to think he's actually gone, since I never got a chance to see him even sick or anything. But at least I know there will come a day when I'll get to see Uncle Hoot again, and hear that familiar laugh and give him a big, back-pounding hug. Goodbye for now uncle Randy, till we meet again.
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