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Weekly Contest #328
My uncle Nash was always sweet to me and my mom. He was my father’s older brother, though only by a couple of years. He died ten years ago. The doctors refused to operate on him. “He’s already lost,” they said. He had a heart attack in bed at the crack of dawn. I wish I had spoken to him more. I wish I had kept him more company. I’d meet him on the bus from school. Chat a little. then he’d be off to wander. He loved it.He was sick, you see. Schizophrenia, and surely other things too. He lived with my grandmother. She died just a few weeks ag...
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