My uncle Jack is dying. He has been struggling with cancer for several years now and the fight is almost lost. When my grandfather died there was a huge hole in my family. No one knew how to manage the ranch, which paper were filed where, who to call to sell logs to, who needed to sign what documents to sell timber, how much timber was worth, where the deeds were, how exactly to go about creating a timber sale, how much was owed in land taxes, who fought the fires, what type of soil there was, when areas were logged last and how long until we could log again, where the property lines were fishy and where they were solid. This knowledge was scattered among his five children, but no one had all the pieces in one place, namely the ranch itself. To top it all off three people were suing my grandfathers estate after he died when they found out that the land on paper was worth a lot of money.

My mother took the job of gathering this information and the documents and meeting and talking to all the people that are involved in caring for a large piece of land (its much more than I thought!) and for the mentally incapable members in the family that needed constant care. Uncle Jack stepped in to handle the legal and financial aspect of dividing up the land, managing the money set aside for those in the family that could not care for themselves, managing the money set aside for the education of the grandchildren, and making sure the attorneys and lawyers were doing their job and helping with the law suits. He also stepped in to the grandfather role in the lives of my brother and I. He would call and see how we were doing in school, ask about dates and dances, take an interest in what we liked, and gather our photos as we grew up. My mother could not have made it through the death of her father, the care of her mother and brother, the transfer of land, and the law suits without Jack taking it all in with her as the solid and honorable big brother he had always been.

When I was a waitress Jack would visit the restaurants I worked at and tip me $100 bills, when I was in a show he would see my production if at all possible, he would walk with me around the ranch in the summer and tell stories of my grandfather and grandmother and what the land was like when he was growing up. He would attend my brothers baseball games and ask us about what we were studying in college. I have a feeling that he is largely responsible for Travis becoming an engineer. Any man would want to grow up to be like Jack. An honorable, honest, hard working, intelligent, well mannered, strong, caring, and gentle man. He is a great reason why I have been so picky in my relationships and have not dropped my high standards for men. How could I date a man any less that Jack?

I have started several stories and poems about Jack in which I mention his physical, moral, and social stature and relate him to the tall trees of the ranch, like my grandfather. The two are weaved of the same materials. My brother is of this material as well and it gladdens my heart to see him following in the path that these amazing men have before.

For a man who has always had a quick wit and an agile mind I can only imagine the struggle that the mentally dulling pain medications have created in him. For a man who never had a violent streak, I can only imagine the anger and frustration that must accompany a strong capable body that suddenly won't do what you want it to. For a man who has traveled the world I can only imagine the heartache that comes in being confined to three rooms in your own home. I grieve the loss of this monumental man.

I feel as if I am losing my grandfather all over again. I am losing the support and closeness of a capable, helpful, wise man who has never let me down or hurt me. What a rare thing that is in this world. How grateful I am to have had several such men in my life.

As he worsens, all Jack can talk about it the past, the ranch, and his family. This is truly what matters to me as well. My family and my land.

On my birthday I took Matt to meet Jack. I am so glad that I did. He told me the recipe that his mother used to make gooseberry jelly with, I only hope that he will be around to taste it this fall when I make it..... but I don't think that will happen. When I filter the shells out of the hot syrup I will know that Jack is there helping me, when I discus the legal terms of transferring land to my brother and I, I will know that Jack is helping me, when I jump into the swimming hole I will know that Jack is jumping in with me.