It's funny how life works, isn't it?

Actually, it's not so much fun when you're at the prime of your life and someone you know reaches the end of their life. Much too soon, don't you think?

Plus, I don't think death at age 42 is anything to be proud of, not even if you happened to be named Zachary Hamilton. Even if he died of cancer or in a car accident or the plane he rode in crashed into the ocean, his death wouldn't be less painful.

Well, here's what happened...

Over the weekend (which was during my bar mitzvah celebration), a nurse who worked at the hospital where Uncle Zach was living saw that he wasn't his usual self. He had gotten very sick and couldn't get out of bed. She called for an ambulance and had him rushed to the hospital. But there was nothing the doctors could do to help him; he died at 2:30 AM on Valentine's Day.

I'm sure Grandma Hamilton blames herself for Uncle Zach's death, seeing as she had done everything she could for him until several doctors took him away from her and sent him to the hospital. Zach was 14 years old when that happened, which was a year older than I am now. Being 14 was a time when kids were expected to put away their toys and grow up.

In my opinion, I don't think it was fair to take a boy who is about to grow up and shut him away in a hospital because he had mental problems. The people who took him had no right to decide that he couldn't be allowed to exist or be a part of the family because of that disability. I'm not surprised at the fact that he died so early in life, as death often claims people who have little to no human interaction.

This was one of the reasons Clayton and his friends had to get Claire away from those toxic people who called themselves her friends.

In short, I had saved Claire from Uncle Zach's fate.

Anyway, since the news about Uncle Zach's death broke out, our house was suddenly filled with scores of relatives, all sobbing because they failed to save him from his "evil imaginary friends and the world they lived in", to put it mildly. I honestly don't think imaginary friends are evil, but if you don't have real friends, you tend to make up some imaginary friends to combat the pain of loneliness. Of course, there's the problem of living in the real world when you're surrounded by your disability, as disability leads to shame and shame leads to isolation. I'm sure Uncle Zach was isolated to hide the shame of having a disabled person in the Hamilton family, as many people living in Lochland have one or two disabled relatives hidden from the world in dark rooms or hospitals, their existence covered up in mountains of paperwork and secrets.

(I bet some of my cousins are sincere in their grief, knowing that Uncle Zach was their cousin and they couldn't help him, as they didn't understand him. But I knew that others didn't care that Uncle Zach is gone, as I saw their facial expressions reading "good riddance to him". I wondered why God gave us families if we were going to mistreat them or destroy them for our own selfish gains.)

By the way, I never got a chance to get to know Uncle Zach; every time I asked dad about him, he'd tell me nothing but bad things about him. (The first time I asked about Zach was when Jem yelled at me for having Gruddly; dad clammed up and told me to take Gruddly and go play in the backyard and never ask about Zach again.) Looks like I'll have to depend on grandma to tell me the truth. I fear that if I do, she'll turn into a blubbering mess and start saying how much she regretted not doing more to help Uncle Zach and why she listened to "those wicked monsters who stole him from me" in the first place. I never knew how Grandpa felt about Uncle Zach and why he had to leave the Hamilton family to spend the rest of his life hidden in a padded room in a hospital, as he died before I was born.

So, I had to go to the memorial service and miss the rest of the school week, which took yet another chunk out of my perfect school attendance record. The service took place on Sunday at Uncle Zach's church. Many people who knew him said that he was the nicest man who ever lived and wondered why God would take him and not take some of the meanest people who they had to deal with. I too wondered why God couldn't take those kids who mistreated Claire and beat up those people who wanted to help her. That's not fair.

(Well, I know it's not right to wish death on children, as it's always sad when a child dies, but some children needed to have the harshest punishment possible handed to them for some of the horrible things that they have done to other people, especially disabled children.

OK, that's enough; I'm going to stop right there, as that's a whole lot more than you needed to know.)

Anyway, so when I get home from the funeral, Clayton calls me up and delivers the bad news. He tells me that Milton was suspended from Lochland Middle School for the rest of the school year, as was Barbara. Neither of them were allowed to go on the Washington D.C. trip or participate in the promotion ceremony with the rest of the eighth grade class, but both of them were required to report to Lochland High School for classes next year.

Well, looks like I've lost a friend, no thanks to his sister. Barbara, the bat-shit crazy sister who beats up Milton every chance she gets and screams at other people and pushes them down for speaking to her brother. I had received my fair share of abuse from her, as did Clayton. Instead of avoiding Milton like everyone whom Barbara had abused, Clayton and I offered to become his friends. Evidently, it wasn't enough, as Barbara had somehow wormed her way between us and forced Milton away from her. Some sister she is.

Speaking of which, Jem and I had a long talk about what it means to be a real family. Of course, Jem tries to play the denial game before she finally admitted that she was angry that I knew I was a boy. She says she and I were supposed to be a set of twin girls. But God doesn't always give us what we want, no matter how many times we ask. I guess that maybe he has his reasons why we aren't getting what we wanted, as Jem probably didn't need a sister, but two brothers.

Looks like it's going to take her a while for her to accept that.

With that taken care of, I decided to go straight to bed, knowing that things were going to be very bad tomorrow. Milton's not coming back to school anymore, and I bet his parents won't let him leave the house or talk on the phone.

So there's that. My uncle's dead and I don't have a friend anymore.

In other words: life's a bitch and your uncle dies, and you lose your best friend...