“You’d better.” I heard him moan over the phone.
“Uncle Ben, you taking your medication?” I waited for him to argue with me, as usual. But he didn’t.
“Yes, I did. Doesn’t seem to help much, though. Pain is something awful.” The fact that he admitted to that was telling of how bad it really was.
I decided to come clean. “You talkin’ about the arthritis pain, or the stomach cancer?”
His sigh was blustery over the phone. “Of course, you know about that,” he replied, sounding a little closer to his normal self, but still weak.
“Yes, Uncle Ben, I do. I was hoping you’d tell me, but you’re just too stuck in your ways to change.” Though I loved every bit of that cranky old goat.
“I am, I know it. I’m sorry, son.” It was one of the few times that Uncle Ben had ever admitted to his foibles. “I wanted to be with you for many more years. But it’s not to be.” He coughed. “At least you have that Tyler now. Don’t fuck it up, boy, you hear me?”