Uncle Ivan was a dear soul. I loved and respected him, and I’ll miss him.

His son, Clay, is my age. We’ve been friends since childhood. After the diagnosis, Clay told me his father wouldn’t die when the doctors said, but when loved ones came to get him. The next night, at his father’s bedside, Clay listened as Ivan began conversing with deceased loved ones.

Within hours of his passing, Ivan came to me. He offered a magnificent presence and said he was with his parents, his sister, and his daughter who had preceded him in death.

I’m not a big fan of funerals, but I attended Ivan’s a few days later. His granddaughter sang a beautiful rendition of “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” It had been one of Ivan’s favorites.

Later that day, before leaving town, I went alone to Ivan’s grave. Music played softly in my truck as I entered the cemetery. I parked in the shade near a mountain of flowers. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Then Patsy Cline started singing, “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.”

They’re still here even when they’re gone. I’m grateful for Ivan’s wink.