My Uncle Sal died on Ash Wednesday at 98 years old. His beloved wife had gone before him, leaving him alone (kind of) and I think he waited for this day to finally be with her.
Together again.I looked for a picture I had of him, holding me as a young child.
I remember dancing with him in my grandmother's living room, me standing on his shoes, carrying me along with each step.
He told me once that he liked being with me when he came here because he did not speak english and I hardly spoke at all, but I always agreed with him.
He smiled a lot. Laughed a lot.. always had the smoothest skin.
And he, like my grandfather had figs.
They were the master gardeners, always giving us surprises from their gardens...
but the figs, they were the best!
So, I decided to post pictures of the figs.
You will always be remembered as being as sweet as they were.
