My Uncle Buster died a couple of decades ago. I remember the drive Dad, Mom, and Grandmother Davidson and I made to the funeral. I drove them all down to the Anniston/Saks area (for visitation) in Dad's van. We then drove back in the procession for graveside service in the Alexandria area. We spent the better part of that day together.
I never want to have to experience having to bury a child. I want my children to long out live me. Gina lost her brother Terry Hale to cancer about six years ago. I know the heartache it causes Walter and Betty Hale to this day.
Walter Ray "Buster" Davidson was the only uncle on my mother's side of the family that I knew growing up. The rest of the Davidson clan scattered like seed from Alabama sometime in the fifties and early sixties. It was nice to have Buster around. He used to come up to the house every now and then to sit on our back patio under the arbor and have long chats with his sister Esther. Like most Davidson men, Buster was a very quiet fellow. The Davidson men that I met were different than the Finlayson men. Finlayson men, like myself like to talk and carry on. Davidsons, the ones that I met had a quiet and strong way about them. Wish I had been around them all more. I'd like to have drawn those men out of their silence and listen to the stories of their lives.
I think of Uncle Buster, I see him sitting out back on our porch swing talking to mom on a Sunday afternoon.
Our Finest Hour
9 hours ago