I witnessed a scene this morning that touched me deeply. From across the room, I watched three men stand with their Mother and look into the casket of their Dad, and her Husband, as they said their final farewells. The man was Billy Smith, my wife's Uncle. He passed away this week and his funeral was this morning in Paris, TX.
It was a wonderful service and I was humbled to assemble with family and friends and celebrate this man's life.
Billy was one of the good guys. A kinder or gentler man, I'm not sure I've ever known. But I really didn't know him like his family and close friends did. You see, Billy was a quiet man. He was always sitting off to the side. He didn't seek to be the center of attention, nor apparently did he need it. I can only imagine what he thought of me when Teresa started bringing me around. And even though he might have been thinking, "Who is this loud-mouth blowhard?", he never found it necessary to say it out loud.
I remember being at his house several years ago, when almost without provocation, he said, "Now, Kevin, there is some store-bought cake in the kitchen." I found it interesting that he wanted me to know that it was "store-bought" and not from the skilled cooking hands of his dear wife, Carol.
On another occasion, I remember Billy giving a plate of chicken bones to their dog. As I understood it, that's the biggest no-no one can do and I'm certain that I'm the one who mentioned it. But Billy said, "Aw, I've fed chicken bones to dogs my whole life and I've never seen it hurt one of em." I was cracking up. I've told that story dozens of times.
Billy owned an Appliance Repair business for over four decades. Evidently, he had been in every home in Paris, TX. Wherever you went in Paris, everybody knew Billy. We were together at the world famous Fish Fry in Paris one Saturday night and it was like ELVIS WAS IN THE BUILDING! Every person in that restaurant knew Billy and they ALL spoke to him. Even this morning, prior to the funeral, Teresa and I were having breakfast in town. I struck up a conversation with a group of runners who had come in. I mentioned that we were in town for a funeral. The locals asked who died? I said "My wife's Uncle, Billy Smith." Immediately, they gave their condolences, spoke highly of Billy, and said that he had fixed their refrigerator.
The Funeral Home was packed this morning. And I'm certain that the attendees were not all family. That's what happens when a good man dies. People show up and pay their respect.
I've never heard one bad word about Billy Smith. And to my knowledge, he never uttered one bad word about anyone else.
He leaves a wonderful legacy. An example that I sure wish I could learn to follow. Elvis has left the building. But the memories of this quiet, strong, yet gentle Man will never leave any of us who were fortunate enough to have known him.
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