Uncle Billy

He wasn’t my uncle, my family, but he was my friend. He was my new year game partner trying to beat those darn women.  Auntie Yvonne and my Darlene.

Born Ukrainian Wasil, William, Billy. On a stretch of Manitoba bush an hour south of Winnipeg. I only knew him for as long as I have known Darlene.

I was brought into the family as gently as can be imagined in French Canadian lore.  I got tossed in and told if they like you they’ll keep you.

In some ways they kept me, but in many more I kept them.  They have been my adoptive family in Manitoba. My own family is in Ontario. Far and gone.

So it’s thorough her (our) family that I feel whole.  Lives change people die. But it’s though our connecting that we live and grow. Living and dying.

Love to you all

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