Uncle Edmon died this morning.  He was 95.  My grandmother used to call him when my grandfather was pitching a fit, Uncle Edmon was my grandfather’s brother.  He would use the excuse of coming in his Higgins Oil truck to fill Papa’s gas tank on his farm and while he was there he would talk Papa down.  Up until the day Papa died, Uncle Edmon had to talk him down. 

Uncle Edmon was always like a second father to my mother.  She turned to him growing up when Papa pitched his fits and she turned to him later in life after Papa outlived my grandmother and continued pitching fits.  But, here’s the thing.  Uncle Edmon and Papa understood each other.  Papa was the first born, Uncle Edmon the second born, from a family of two boys and four girls.  My grandfather’s parents gave my grandfather away after he was born, to his mother’s parents, Grandad and Grandma Livesay.  They lived a rock’s throw apart but a world away from each other. 

Uncle Edmon and Papa were just two years apart.  All the time growing up, they kept it going between the two houses - boys standing in for adults - trying to keep a family together.  When they were grown with their own families, they stayed in touch via Higgins Oil.  They talked and told stories that over the years they had heard countless times before.  It was the laughter that mattered.  The visit was their bond.     

They were two brothers, working out the mess the adults made of their lives. 

R.I.P. Uncle Edmon

and Papa. 

This entry was posted on Monday, April 19th, 2010 at 7:45 pm and is filed under David's Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.