There just doesn't seem to be enough time in our day, week, or month to accomplish what we would like to do. We always mean to stop in and visit an old friend or relative; we always try to be compassionate and understanding. We try and we try, but despite our best intentions we (or at least I do) end up in a place where I am at now where I wish that someone had told me to try harder. My uncle died a week ago, strange how I didn't even realize it was that long until I was sitting here writting this. He was coming home late from a friend's house, drove off a bridge and drowned. The last time I talked to him was two weeks ago. I was getting ready to come back to the city; running back and forth from the house to car packing all my crap. Eugene was out mowing our lawn so that Dad wouldn't have to worry about it when he got back for his vacation. I was talking to him, but I was also thinking in my head that I wanted him to shut-up so that I could get back to the city in good time. He was also telling me that I always needed to get gas money from the people that I was driving back to the city. I look back on that day, and see myself with my head half in the car, ears not tuned into what he was saying, and wish that I could go back and change how I acted towards him; told him something that he would have liked hearing, most of all telling him that I loved him. But I suppose that these are the sins of living. Everywhere I turn I see someone else who has regrets about the way they treated Eugene. There has to be a lesson in there somewhere, maybe even more than one, ones that are less obvious and not on the surface. One thing I do know for certain is that I am not going to take anything for granted anymore. While this usually happens to me after a funeral, I am going to do my best to make this one stick, as a tribute to the way that Eugene lived his life. I love you Eugene!