I should remember Uncle Jack, my grandfather's brother, better than I do. When he passed away I was a young adult with an active interest in family history. I'm sorry that my memories of him aren't stronger as they are of a very likeable, warm and friendly man with a cheeky sense of humour.
In the past few weeks I have started looking into a particular part of Uncle Jack's life. For the first time in my family history research, I have an uncomfortable feeling that I'm trespassing. When I voiced this to my sister (who knows what I'm researching) she thought Uncle Jack might be glad that his story would be told.
Not that I know, or may ever know, exactly what his story was.
Uncle Jack, I sorry if I'm intruding, but I liked you too much to leave this particular stone unturned.