It started in Februray. One of my students from last year. It was awkward because I didn't feel quite as bad as maybe I should have. But my heart ached for all those 18 year old pall bearers. Next was a student's sister. It was only a week or so later and I didn't make it. Kid funerals need lots of space in between. Then on a fun girl trip to San Francisco I checked my voicemail from the back seat. First was a message from my dad saying to call him. It sounded urgent. Then again, he always sounds urgent. Next a message from my sister asking what I am doing about travel, hotel and flowers. I knew someone had died immediately. My uncle. But I have never really called him that. More like my mother's brother. He is one of those relatives you don't really talk about. Into Harleys, tatoos, women, snakes and drugs the exact opposite of my conservative mom. He was around enough, but we didn't exactly exchange Christmas cards. But he was my mom's brother and the tear...