My earliest memories involve my mom. I am grateful that I made it to age 43 before you passed away. My youngest daughter, now 9, hears about you, hears some stories, and it would be awesome if we could put together more pictures, film, and audio of you. Family Search online makes this so much more easier now.
I have written about you before, with some good memories and thoughts.
Hopefully somewhat permanent in my blog: http://clinchitsoonerorlater.blogspot.com/
I remember when you had me in the Bryan Park pool and we would go underwater. I cried and screamed but it worked. I'm still a fish. Age 49.
I remember seeing your plane leave the tarmac in Indianapolis heading towards Boston. That was an empty feeling, you prepared me for separations back then.
I remember the years of church, Cub Scouts, when sometimes you were the den mother. I remember the trips and vacations to Massachusetts and everywhere else.
I remember the years of middle school and high school, not always easy for you or me, or my sisters, but we managed to make it and we all came through!
I remember how you took me to Saint Louis to see my favorite baseball player for the first time. Tremendous memory, very thoughtful.
I remember the letters you dutifully sent me on my full time mission in South America. They did not always make it on time, but I think that I received them all, 104 in all, one per week. I was lucky to send you one every 3 weeks.
I remember sharing many wonderful dinners and hours and church times, family meals, visits and trips as I grew into my twenties.
I remember bringing home my bride from California, and bringing her back with child after child. You got to know and share with all five.
I remember the wonderful missions that you and Terry served in southeast Asia, the fantastic service rendered, actions accomplished, and legacy left behind for us the family, for those in Cambodia and Indonesia, and future generations.
I remember going away to Afghanistan and you and Terry hurrying back from New England to see me off.
I remember all the great conversations with you on Skype while away from my home and family, you dealing with chemotherapy and hair loss, and ultimately submission to cancer.
I remember the last time you called me and expressed your love and wishes to have more time with your grandchildren.
I remember helping you get to hospice, and you uttering your last messages to us, and Bill and Alma and Anne bidding farewell, and Jenny by phone.
I remember touching you for the last time and feeling your warmth, uncovering your feet and holding them.
I cried hard. That's a good thing, at least for me.
I remember all the people at the funeral in the chapel, and before that the viewing the night before, and then on the Daviess County for the burial, where I dedicated your grave in Jesus' name and by His authority.
I remember that you will be raised up in the last day, thanks to God and His Son.
I remember your birthday coming up in July, when this year you would be 80. Now you are fixed at age 73 on earth, but in heaven you are more likely 33, the age you would have been when I have my first conscious memories.
But you were raising me long before that, and preparing with your nurse duties in Massachusetts and Togo and Sierra Leone.
Later, you would lead the copy shop typing business, then some realty, then the true love of antiques and collectibles.
I remember all those things. I remember special treats you would share, or gifts.
I remember that as I grow older I am growing closer to you, and that is not a bad thing.
Closer to heaven, closer to complete, closer to Mom.
I love you mom. Thanks for the memories, as Bob Hope would sing.
I look forward to sharing more in the future, and discovering what else we can talk about down the road. Like, for example, the grand kids.
Love,
Eddie Bear
I have written about you before, with some good memories and thoughts.
Hopefully somewhat permanent in my blog: http://clinchitsoonerorlater.blogspot.com/
I remember when you had me in the Bryan Park pool and we would go underwater. I cried and screamed but it worked. I'm still a fish. Age 49.
I remember seeing your plane leave the tarmac in Indianapolis heading towards Boston. That was an empty feeling, you prepared me for separations back then.
I remember the years of church, Cub Scouts, when sometimes you were the den mother. I remember the trips and vacations to Massachusetts and everywhere else.
I remember the years of middle school and high school, not always easy for you or me, or my sisters, but we managed to make it and we all came through!
I remember how you took me to Saint Louis to see my favorite baseball player for the first time. Tremendous memory, very thoughtful.
I remember the letters you dutifully sent me on my full time mission in South America. They did not always make it on time, but I think that I received them all, 104 in all, one per week. I was lucky to send you one every 3 weeks.
I remember sharing many wonderful dinners and hours and church times, family meals, visits and trips as I grew into my twenties.
I remember bringing home my bride from California, and bringing her back with child after child. You got to know and share with all five.
I remember the wonderful missions that you and Terry served in southeast Asia, the fantastic service rendered, actions accomplished, and legacy left behind for us the family, for those in Cambodia and Indonesia, and future generations.
I remember going away to Afghanistan and you and Terry hurrying back from New England to see me off.
I remember all the great conversations with you on Skype while away from my home and family, you dealing with chemotherapy and hair loss, and ultimately submission to cancer.
I remember the last time you called me and expressed your love and wishes to have more time with your grandchildren.
I remember helping you get to hospice, and you uttering your last messages to us, and Bill and Alma and Anne bidding farewell, and Jenny by phone.
I remember touching you for the last time and feeling your warmth, uncovering your feet and holding them.
I cried hard. That's a good thing, at least for me.
I remember all the people at the funeral in the chapel, and before that the viewing the night before, and then on the Daviess County for the burial, where I dedicated your grave in Jesus' name and by His authority.
I remember that you will be raised up in the last day, thanks to God and His Son.
I remember your birthday coming up in July, when this year you would be 80. Now you are fixed at age 73 on earth, but in heaven you are more likely 33, the age you would have been when I have my first conscious memories.
But you were raising me long before that, and preparing with your nurse duties in Massachusetts and Togo and Sierra Leone.
Later, you would lead the copy shop typing business, then some realty, then the true love of antiques and collectibles.
I remember all those things. I remember special treats you would share, or gifts.
I remember that as I grow older I am growing closer to you, and that is not a bad thing.
Closer to heaven, closer to complete, closer to Mom.
I love you mom. Thanks for the memories, as Bob Hope would sing.
I look forward to sharing more in the future, and discovering what else we can talk about down the road. Like, for example, the grand kids.
Love,
Eddie Bear
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