On Thursday my Dad and I took a sentimental journey to his hometown of Pleasant Grove. We went to visit his brother Cloyd. We were joined by Dads other surviving brother and sister, Cloyds wife, and their 5 adult children.
There were hugs all around, even a few tears. I told my uncle Cloyd that he looked like a fighter pilot in his oxygen mask. I talked a bit with my cousins, who I see infrequently, but then I just watched as my Dad talked with his brother.
My thoughts drifted off and back to the years I had lived in Pleasant Grove and to my interactions with my uncle Cloyd. He was always a very soft spoken, gentle, courteous man. He worked at Geneva Steel for over 30 years, and lived almost his entire life within a block of where he was born and raised. I used to think he and Ruth had the nicest house in the family. Especially since they had a pool table. It was a house he and Ruth built in the early 50's. The house we visited them in Thursday.
I went to many family gatherings through the years, whether reunions, get togethers at campgrounds, or just under the big tree at my grandparents. Cloyd was almost always there and we would spend a few minutes chatting. I went on day long cross country ski trips, hiked Mt. Timpanogas, and deer hunting, all with groups that included Cloyd.
As Cloyd and Ruth were raising their family they suffered the tragic loss of one of their sons in an automobile accident. That was the second time in my life I looked into the eyes of an aunt and uncle seeing the grief from the loss of a child.
Cloyd and Ruth went forward, raising a very good family. Since we had moved from Pleasant Grove when I was ten, our visits started occurring less and less frequently. In later years mostly at funerals as family members passed away. But I always talked to Cloyd when I saw him.
Four years ago Cloyd had to start dialysis five days a week. You would never know it when you saw him. He was happy, interesting to talk to, and never a word of complaint. He moved slower, but still had a twinkle in his eyes.
Dad and Cloyd were close in age and close as brothers, so when we found out he had been in the hospital for a few days, but was now home, I knew Dad would want to go visit him. I volunteered to be the taxi. I had, for years, wanted to tell my aunts and uncles how much they all meant to me, and this would be a chance to tell uncle Cloyd.
I came back to the present when I heard Dad say we should go. That usually means within three or four minutes Dad is on his way. Not today. Cloyd had been diagnosed with Luekemia during his hospital stay. He and his family decided that it was time to end his dialysis treatments, as there wasn't hope for a much longer life now.
Dad lingered, holding his brothers hand, talking to him about how well prepared he was to leave this earthly existence. Cloyd was as humble as ever and was concerned about his preparedness. His family all told him he had prepared well. It was a tearful goodbye for me as I bent, took my uncles 86 year old but still firm hand, and told him he had been a great uncle.
We left and drove home. Dad talking about his brother most of the way. When we got home we talked to Mom and my sister about our visit. It was a quiet, thoughtful conversation. I finally told Mom and Dad I would see them soon and left with my sister.
I had been home about three hours when I got a text from Dad informing me that Cloyd, who had been such a wonderful uncle and example for me, had passed away.
Though I'm saddened by the loss of my uncle. I'm happy knowing I was able to tell him what a great uncle he had been to me.
