The Old Tree

We never miss something until it's completely away from us.

Why is that?

Is it that we assume that it will be with us always?

Much like time it soon passes us by, before we know it, it is gone.

Concerning my uncles and aunts respectively:

I can still hear your voices in proper southern american dialect. I see your faces that gleamed at every family gathering as you carried yourself with dignity honor and respect.
Melvira, Eugenia (Jean), Fredna, Ethel, William-Taft, and
Wilbert (Brother).
Elmira and Clara whom I never got the chance to meet.

You were my mother's brothers and sisters.

We were all told the old stories of a depressed south, but the joy and laughter you found in one another. We listened to your talks about how being family got you through.
We could always come to each one of you for help and advice. We could always chat and laugh about everything.

You made sure we had what we needed when we needed it. If you knew about anything, you would share it. You all learned skills that gave you a lifetime of work. And you had the stories of your many adventures and your good times.
And the stories still live on.

We are carrying our legacy of family and devotion. We are doing what we learned from you. We have the roots and branches that extends the family tree. We grow, we therefore grow into the great tree knowing those who follow us will remember where we came from.

Respectively submitted,
Wilbert