We grew up in a town that was 2 hours away from our nearest relatives. That meant that my brother, sister and I could go months without seeing a grandparent. This is where Uncle Jim and Aunty Myrtle step in. They were our elderly neighbours who were there for us rain and shine. Uncle Jim was a photographer, and it is thanks to him that we have so many childhood memories captured on film. Aunty Myrtle is an amazing cook, and it is thanks to her I had food to eat whenever I was angry at Mum and Dad.
Uncle Jim died two months after we moved to Australia. His funeral was held on my 14th birthday. I never got to say how much he meant to me or how much I loved him, because it didn’t occur to me that I might never see him again. But, it is never too late, and I’m sure I’ll be able to tell him how much he meant to me one day.