There is a silence amidst the usual conversation of the holidays this year. It is as noticeable as a missing note in a familiar piece of music. And the one who notices it most is my Mother. Her brother, Jean, passed away a few months ago. We had expected the news. He had been unwell for some time and had brushes with his heart several times. But he had been a stalwart friend through all of it, and throughout his life for that matter. He was faithful to visit. He was faithful to phone. I could count on hearing what was new with Uncle Jean in my conversations with Mother. And, although I never understood why, they loved their trips to the casino together. To say she misses him is an understatement. The years have taken so many from our family. Some taken in their time. Others taken before. But this loss is acute. And it has left a very specific loneliness that isn't relieved with other company.