I am a teenager, upstairs in a building, exercising, and suddenly I realize that I need to change my clothes as my Uncle is picking me up. I hurry, and do manage to put on a new outfit. Dressed in a mini skirt and a collared top, now I look like a cheerleader. I run down a flight of stairs and there is my Uncle, smartly dressed, standing next to his car, a shiny pink sports car. Smiling, I pause, and think, I have too much luggage and it will never fit into that car. Standing in the background is my Father, dressed in casual clothes, standing next to his car, a station wagon. I do not want to be rude to my Uncle, but I am feeling sentimental towards my Father and realizing my needs of practicality. He is the one I will choose.
He was already dead.
Then, my Uncle died. Then, another Uncle died.