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Show 213 Uncle Hen was next, in 1929, and he died of a heart attack, still in his overalls, like Papa, but at home on his bed. I was across the street in Joseph, taking care of a patient, pressed into nursing service on a visit home, when they came for me. I didn't get there to see him take his last breath, but he was still black from it; his face cleared as I watched him. We were living in Los Angeles when the telegram about Harold came: "Harold accidently shot. Died at 3:30 P. M. " Harold was thirteen. Eldon met the bus at Cove Fort and met my first question: "He died instantly-no suffering. " There were two funerals the following Sunday, one growing out of the other. John Parker's boy, Rex, was buried in the morning and our Harold in the afternoon. Harold had missed Papa more than the rest of us. He had not been robust since his sickness as a baby, had severe headaches, and was of a melancholy nature, sometimes wanted to be with Papa, even in death. The night before the accident he asked Mama where a person's heart is, and she had showed him on his own chest. This was for a school project. It was pheasant season and Harold had his own gun. Next day he begged to go hunting instead of to school, and Mama let him go with Et Wells' grandson, Burl. They were hunting in the river bottoms where the bull berries are thick. Mama, Vetris, and Revo (Macel and Eldon were married by then) had driven to Richfield to shop. |