Uncle Fred
Wednesday I received a phone call with the horrible news that my uncle, my mom's baby brother passed away. I thought when my cousin called she was going to tell me that a new baby was coming to our family so when she gave me the news I was absolutely blown away. My feelings, however, are not what I want to write about. I want to write about my memories of my Uncle Fred, so that his kids, my cousins, will know how much he meant to me. I can only hope he knew.
The first memory I am going to write about is not really a memory, but a story I have been told. When I was born I was the first grandchild and my Uncle was only 15 years old. He was the baby of the family and was a jokester. I do remember him playing with me a lot at my mamaw and papaw's house and always thought he was the best. My mother has told me this story so often it seems like a memory. Evidently he taught me to say the word "shit" thinking it would be really funny to hear a child barely speaking to say it to the adults. Of course I did just as he wanted. It was funny to my mom's family, but when I said it in front of my dad's parents, they were not as amused. My mom says when my grandma asked her what it was I was saying, she insisted she had no idea, that she couldn't understand a word that I said. I love that story.
The next really great memories I have happened when I was around 11-12 years old. We lived in Thorntown and Fred was in his single stud years. He would have been around 26 years old I guess. I remember him pulling into our drive once in some sort of sports car (I am terrible about knowing car models) with a big fro and bell bottoms. I thought he was the coolest thing I had ever known or seen in my life. He really was. The slumber parties he would hold with Chris and I were the best and so much fun.
In 1988 when my baby brother passed away, Fred was our family's rock. He was the calm, the logic, and the reassurance that all would be well and we would reunite with Mark again. I am not sure what we would have done without that man at that time. Again, when Paul, my stepdad was sick and passed away just a few years ago, Fred was there to help us get through tough decisions and again I am not sure how we would have done it without him.
I have to admit, though, that seeing him as a father and a grandfather has been the best. His eyes sparkled talking about his kids and his grandkids and anyone could see he was meant to be a father and a papaw. I know I will miss him, my mom will miss him and his children, their spouses, grandchildren, and his wife, Sherry will wonder how they will make it without him. I do know this though, when I think about tomorrow and his funeral, I will hear his calm voice and helpful demeanor and I will know that someday we will all be together again. Fly high dear Fred. Love you much.
The first memory I am going to write about is not really a memory, but a story I have been told. When I was born I was the first grandchild and my Uncle was only 15 years old. He was the baby of the family and was a jokester. I do remember him playing with me a lot at my mamaw and papaw's house and always thought he was the best. My mother has told me this story so often it seems like a memory. Evidently he taught me to say the word "shit" thinking it would be really funny to hear a child barely speaking to say it to the adults. Of course I did just as he wanted. It was funny to my mom's family, but when I said it in front of my dad's parents, they were not as amused. My mom says when my grandma asked her what it was I was saying, she insisted she had no idea, that she couldn't understand a word that I said. I love that story.
The next really great memories I have happened when I was around 11-12 years old. We lived in Thorntown and Fred was in his single stud years. He would have been around 26 years old I guess. I remember him pulling into our drive once in some sort of sports car (I am terrible about knowing car models) with a big fro and bell bottoms. I thought he was the coolest thing I had ever known or seen in my life. He really was. The slumber parties he would hold with Chris and I were the best and so much fun.
In 1988 when my baby brother passed away, Fred was our family's rock. He was the calm, the logic, and the reassurance that all would be well and we would reunite with Mark again. I am not sure what we would have done without that man at that time. Again, when Paul, my stepdad was sick and passed away just a few years ago, Fred was there to help us get through tough decisions and again I am not sure how we would have done it without him.
I have to admit, though, that seeing him as a father and a grandfather has been the best. His eyes sparkled talking about his kids and his grandkids and anyone could see he was meant to be a father and a papaw. I know I will miss him, my mom will miss him and his children, their spouses, grandchildren, and his wife, Sherry will wonder how they will make it without him. I do know this though, when I think about tomorrow and his funeral, I will hear his calm voice and helpful demeanor and I will know that someday we will all be together again. Fly high dear Fred. Love you much.
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