Tribute to a hero gone home

My plans were recently disheveled when I learned that Uncle Darrel had passed away. Not many people can say that they know their great-grandfather's brother, but not only can I say that I knew Uncle Darrel, I knew him fairly well.

Of course, it helped that he lived right around the corner from where my folks live. They didn't even know they were moving so close to him when they bought the lot for their house, but they soon found out and were joyed to be living so close to family. Being so close to my family, Uncle Darrel was always on my radar when I have been in the vicinity of home.

I actually didn't care so much about him when I first came to know him. I was actually looking for information about my great grandfather, and so I had come with my dad's voice recorder and some questions. But it didn't take long before I was swept into the story of Uncle Darrel, and very soon I had changed my objective to collecting more information about him.

He was born in the roaring 20s, so he lived through the Great Depression as a youth. When WWII broke out, he quit high school to serve his country in the Coast Guard. He was based in San Diego and saw action in the Pacific. The emotional scars from that conflict left an indelible impression upon him, and I could tell that it was difficult for him to talk about, so I maintained a respectable distance on that subject.

He came home from the war and was celebrated as a hero. He went on to do lots of things both with his career as a craftsman and his family. He was married twice and loved both his families. But by the time I came on the scene he found it difficult to control his emotions when they were deep about anything, and so there were some things that we just never talked about. But I always enjoyed his company and the growth of our relationship. He always expressed his appreciation for my visits and phone calls.

Last year he was especially helpful to me. I had some amazing experiences that are too sacred to share here, but Uncle Darrel was a part of some of those, and for the part that these experiences brought good things into my life I have to thank Uncle Darrel for his contribution. I would not be the man I am today without any of it.

It was about three weeks ago that I found out about his stroke. Uncle Darrel was never one to be idle; he was always up and about as much as his body would allow him, which some days wasn't all that much. But this stroke really took it out of him. He was paralyzed completely, a condition that must have frustrated him. At first he could not even so much as talk and had to get his food through a tube, but slowly as his feeling started coming back into his body, he could wiggle a foot or a finger, but only on one side of his body. This made his speech sound very slurred, since he was only using half his mouth to speak. It was hard to understand him the last time I talked with him over the phone. But he kept at it and made some improvements, so much that it looked like he was going to pull through.

Then a second stroke came and placed him in a coma. When I got the news I sensed that we were looking at the end of the road. I wasn't too far off the mark when Mother called me the next day and told me that Uncle Darrel had passed away that morning. I was home sick (with a head cold, not swine flu) but still working. The news didn't surprise me, but I still felt something at the news. For a while, all I could do was sit in my chair and say over and over, "He was a good man." I shed a few tears.

There were more to come. As I made my way home, I thought about all that Uncle Darrel was to me, and again all I could say was that he was a good man. It was good to be with family and meet some that I had not seen before. But it was also good to learn things about Uncle Darrel that I never knew.

I never knew that during WWII he watched our government deliver one of our warships to the Russians off the coast of Alaska.

I never knew that he was deeply involved with Scouting. There was never any paraphenelia around his house to indicate that. But since it was hard for him to control his emotions late in life, it makes sense that all of the "triggers" would be kept out of sight.

And I never knew that the Lord was tenderly merciful to him at the end of his life. The first stroke he suffered clogged the vessels that delivered blood to his emotional center, thus effectively killing that part of his brain and freeing him from the trouble that had plagued him for many years. Because his emotions would now not fly out of control, he could have some tender moments with his family as they sang to him songs that he loved to hear. The second stroke then escorted him through to the other side with a minimal amount of pain and suffering.

As I sat in the funeral service hearing all of this, I could not help but weep like a child -- weep not only for the good man that Uncle Darrel had been to me but also for the good that the Lord had done for him. I had been holding back my tears up to that point -- maybe it was a subconscious macho thing -- but there at the end I just let go and let the salt water flow. It was very cathartic.

My thoughts since then have been often poignant, thinking back upon Uncle Darrel and the times that we spent together. I've been thinking about the influence that one good man can have in the lives of others, because I saw that in the the life of Uncle Darrel as reflected in those who came to pay their last respects to the hero called home. And I have been wondering about the influence that I have had and will have in the lives of those around me.

I'm certainly going to miss Uncle Darrel. But I'm certainly also looking forward to that day when I will see him again.