My Uncle Jon was one of my favorite family members. Out of everyone, he was one of the people to whom I was closest. He lived in town so I saw him a lot, and not just on holidays and special occasions like other family. Rather than knock on our front door and wait for us to answer like everyone else did, he would drop by our house and walk right in the back door. I took those impromptu visits for granted. I took his voice, his kind words, and his smile for granted. Uncle Jon had a habit of always saying to me, "Have I told you lately? You're beautiful." He worked as a groundskeeper for a retirement home in Elkhart, which is a town near South Bend. He loved nature and the outdoors. His gifts were always something that you could enjoy outside. He was always so proud of my accomplishments, and I wish he could see all that I have done since he left us. I know he would not be able to hide his joy for me. I did 4-H for ten years, and he would always go out to the fair to see my projects. Uncle Jon was one of the few people, besides my parents and brother, who would come out to my track meets and watch me run. He had so many groups of friends because he was so kind to everyone he met. He was one of the most optimistic people I knew, always saying, "Life's too short to be anything but happy."

     My Uncle Jon took his life during the Thanksgiving break of my sophomore year. His death was a shock to all who knew him: family, friends, acquaintances. Just about anyone who had made any sort of contact with Jon showed up to his viewing; there was a steady stream of people the whole day who came to pay their respects to the man who would have given the shirt off of his back to anyone in need.

     During his funeral, a few people got up to say something about this beloved man who was so suddenly taken from our lives. My Uncle Rick, Jon's brother, got up and said a few words. Then he played the song "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. I remember sitting in those rows of people, listening to the song, tearing up only slightly as I was trying to keep my composure. Then my little cousin Sophie walked up to me with a timid smile, offering me a box of tissues, and I could not hold myself together any longer. For the sake of this assignment, I am able to diagram a sign-object relation. But in the moment, it was all so fluid and emotional that I did not even notice.

     The sign was the song "Wish You Were Here." The object was the meaning of the song. We all truly wished that Jon was still there with us. We wished he had not taken a gun to his head. We wished he was there smiling at us, comforting us, asking us why we were mourning. And finally the interpretant was my crying. 

     The sign now acts as an index in the fact that when I hear it, I become saddened and am reminded of my uncle's passing. The song co-occurred with his funeral, so hearing "Wish You Were Here" brings that day to mind. During the Closing Ceremonies at the 2012 Summer Olympics, one of my favorite artists covered this song, and I don't think I had heard "Wish You Were Here" since it was played at Jon's funeral. Hearing the tune made me recall how I felt that day, how I wish I could still see him and talk with him. The song can be seen as a symbol as well. "Wish You Were Here" linguistically states how I literally felt towards my uncle. The slow, melancholy beat and the questioning, mournful lyrics are iconic of how I was feeling that day. Now depending on the frame I am in, I can either let this song really depress me, or I can wait for a better time to express my feelings. If I was in a large group, for example, and I heard this song, I would try to veil my emotions and sorrow. But if I was alone, or maybe it was the day my Uncle Jon died, I would be more likely to let my emotions flow free.