As I have mentioned before I had several uncle’s growing up, which made for lots of fun times. Unfortunately, due to bad luck we have lost most of them 4 to be exact. Here is another poem I wrote for one of those uncles when he passed.
He road with the wind in his hair and the Sun on his back, now he’s gone and won’t be coming back. This was unexpected it happened so fast, all we can do now is think about his past. He went out doing what he loves, you could always see him with his biker vest and his hands were always loved. As we sit here all we can do is cry, but we all know tommy is looking down on us from the sky. Its so sad that he had to die, but now with his biker wings he can always fly. We’re all stunned and don’t know what to do, none of us want to believe that this is true. We all wish him well as he ascends to the great Above, just like a lonesome Dove. So long are buddy, brother, or uncle we’re sure to see you again. Then you can tell us about all the places you have been.
In Living Memory of
George Thomas Crandall
Dec. 26th, 1958 – Sep. 09, 2006
Tommy was killed saving another in a freak motorcycle accident. Ironically he saved my husband’s cousin and he didn’t even know about me and hubby dating at the time. The two just happen to be part of the same motorcycle club, on a poker run that day. I won’t share more about his accident because it was pretty gruesome, but I will say please watch for motorcyclists whether you’re in a car, a truck, or a semi.
Not long ago was the 7 year anniversary of my Uncle Phillips’ death. Which is hard for me every year. I took his passing pretty hard, we had to travel to Oklahoma City where he was in the hospital. On the way back that night from the hospital I am told I was unreachable as my then fiance drove us home, he and my cousin noticed that I was not speaking except for when I saw a turn signal come on I would say
” blinky, blinky, blinky” until it went off.
I did not have a father growing up so I became very close with my uncle’s and especially with my Uncle Phillip. He was even going to drive me into my wedding on his motorcycle which was just a few months later which may have been part of why it made it even harder to loose him, I wanted him there. He had been mediflighted to the city because of a car wreck but it kind of took us by surprise that he passed because the doctors told us he was doing better.
Anyway here is one of the poems I wrote for his funeral.
(Awaiting the light)
I remember being wheeled through the doors and into a room, with many doctors and nurses around me. For many hours I have laid here with them working hard. Finally I feel myself being moved again this time I am in my own room. I’m being hooked up to many machines, they make me uncomfortable I know that my family is not in the room. Where is my family, I need my family. I try to move when I notice that I am sore from top to bottom. I feel sleepy and I can’t speak to anyone, my sisters in enter, why can’t I speak to them. They continue to try to get me to answer them. Why, why, what is wrong. Why can’t I speak. I watch is my family comes and goes for days. Early one morning I awaken to a great pain in my head. No one is around. I’m scared and alone and I can’t get anyone to hear my scream. Many hours later I’m awake and I can move. I walked down the hall and find my family, they are all standing in a small room with sad looks on their faces. I try to speak to them this time I was able to say the words, but to my dismay again they could not hear me. I begin to cry and I try to help comfort them, but it’s not working. I begin to get a warm feeling in my belly, I hear my name mentioned and again I tried to say I’m fine. I look at my wife and say I’m fine. I’m right here. When I notice someone calling my name, a voice I have never heard before. A bright light begins to shine from behind me. I turn around to see the door open, & I am instructed to enter. I finally realized what has happened, to the floor I fall begging, pleading. “Please don’t take me, they need me.” The light begins to pull me in and I turn to watch my family as I leave. Although I knew they would not hear me I called out. “goodbye, goodbye, I love you, goodbye”!
I’m loving memory of
Phillip C. Crandall Aka Jammer
Back when I was in high school I wrote a little poetry, and being as I wasn’t really sure what to post today I dug up my old notebook. It’s always interesting to look back at things that were important to you, especially when it’s writing.
This little diddy was the very first poem I ever wrote. Enjoy
( American Soldier)
They came from across the land,
Carrying our freedom in there hands.
Though we do not recognize them, they are there, many who will never be known but they do not care. For they do not fight for recognition, they fight for our right to speak as we wish. It is the American spirit that keeps them going. In times like now they keep us safe from those who wish to take all that we have worked so hard for. They are the soldiers we may not know their name but they all go by one name, America, that is who we are.