Cutting the family tree down to size

Not long after I was discharged from the air force in 1972 my father talked me into going to the hospital with him to see his older brother, my uncle, who had just been diagnosed with leukemia.
My dad had 13 brothers and sisters, eight full brothers and sisters, and five half brothers and sisters.
My Uncle Ernest, the uncle in the hospital, was the oldest of the second family, he was married and he and my aunt had one daughter but she had died a long time ago when she was just a child. My other uncle was Lawrence, he was the black sheep of the family, I don't know if he was ever legally married, and he might have had a few kids scattered around the country, but none of them would have had our name. Then there was my dad, married, three kids, two daughters, one son, that one son being me.
So there we were sitting in that hospital room in Royal Oak Michigan in the summer of 1972. None of us were talkers. I think we all probably thought of ourselves as the strong silent type, well, yeah, maybe, at least the silent part was right.
Anyway, there was conversation, in a manner of speaking, questions were asked, answers were given ... in as few words as possible.

How you feeling?
Not too bad.

How's work?
Slow.

How does it feel to be out of the air force?
Great.

We all asked our questions, and we all gave our answers, and after about 15 minutes there was silence broken only by the sound of the fluorescent lights overhead.

We sat there, looked at each other, smiled, and cleared our throats.
Oh, and about an hour, a half hour, 15 minutes later my dad and I decided to leave.
We said our goodbyes, cracked a few jokes, smiled at each other a lot, and then we left.
That was the last time I saw my Uncle Ernest, he died a month or so later.

So there you have it, my family tree. My uncle passed away some thirty years ago. My father passed away about five years. Finally, here I sit in front of my computer staring into the white glare of the monitor, the last of the line.
Spooky.