My Uncle Bill, My Hero

(3)Our family moved to Fredericksburg when I was about four and my brother, Rodney, was about three. We moved into this house on Plum Street, just a couple of blocks from Main Street. Up until then, we had been living in Brady, close to all of our family in Coleman and Brownwood. (Actually, before that we lived in Santa Anna, even closer, but I was too young to remember anything about those days.)

One day, Rodney and I decided we would write a letter to our Uncle Bill. He had married my mom's second younger sister, Johnnie Belle (It wasn't until I was in my teens that I began to call her Johnnie, which she preferred over the more, shall we say, Southern-sounding name.) Rodney and I must have been afraid that Uncle Bill wouldn't find us after we moved, because we wrote to tell him that we missed him and hoped he would come to see us.

Now, a four year old has absolutely no clue how to send a letter, so we left our house, and walked up to Main Street, and into a gas station. We handed to letter to the guy behind a desk and asked him to mail it to our Uncle William. By the time we got home, Mom and Dad were, naturally, livid. We got the worst spanking of our lives that day.

Uncle Bill was our hero, and we wanted to make sure, I guess, that he wouldn't forget us.

Yesterday, we attended Johnnie's funeral. She died of cancer at 55 years of age. From the day she discovered that she had cancer to the end, William was by her side. And when she died at home last week, he was there. He worked from home so he wouldn't have to leave her side.

After the service, they led the family out first. And when the friends left the church auditorium, William greeted every one of them, thanked them for coming, all without batting an eye. After the graveside service, we went back to William and Johnnie's house (it still seems odd to call it William's house). He spoke with everyone and played with his granddaughters. I don't know that I would have had his composure. I would probably have been curled into a little ball somewhere crying my eyes out.

Tonight, I realized that, after thirty-odd years, my Uncle Bill is still my hero.

My Aunt Johnnie was such a wonderful person. She would often email me and tell me to update this web site more often. In May, when I saw her for the last time, before she knew about the cancer that would kill her, she teased me about my kilt, and wondered why I didn't wear it. When my Dad's brother came to visit (after we heard the sad news) I wore it, and I forgot to have someone take a picture of me wearing the kilt. I wanted Mom to take it up to show her. (I have added a picture below, under the entry for June 17.) That's the only regret I have concerning Johnnie. I told her I loved her when we left the lake to come home, so I have that covered.

Well, actually, I have one other regret.

After the reunion at the lake, Johnnie had all the families get together for family photos. As everyone was leaving, Johnnie remembered that no one had taken a picture of her family. But the granddaughters were asleep, so we didn't get a picture of them all together. A week or so later, Johnnie sent everyone a picture of her family. I am posting it here.

From Left to right, and top to bottom: back row: Amy, Clay; middle row: Jana, Brianna, Lily, Tammy, Abby Grace, Johnnie; Front row: Uncle Bill and Ray.

I will update the site more regularly, as Johnnie requested. And if you can, please send a donation to The American Cancer Society in the name of Johnnie Thomas. My Uncle Bill and I would appreciate it.