I remember you always had pipe tobacco that smelled like apples or peaches and you'd sit at the table puffing away, listening to your music. Which, if I remember correctly, was usually always something that involved pianos.
You told me once I probably wouldn't like it but when you let me listen it wasn't something that I would protest.
Over the years the frequency at which you'd visit declined, but I was always hoping to see you around on Christmas, at the very least.
And I remember the last Christmas I saw you, in 2010.
I can't remember most of what we talked about. I think I was going on about the woman I was dating at the time and you said something about "getting a leg up," and I do remember saying something about having always wanted to visit a London pub.
You said if I ever made it to England, you'd take me to one.
I'm really sorry that never happened. That I never made it there to visit and have a drink with you.
Your passing has been felt in many different places around the world and I'm absolutely sure that no one will ever forget you.
Rest in peace Uncle Ron, there's no more pain.