Wynn's Story

This story begins at my grandfather’s funeral on August 6th of 1981.  Everyone gathered in the chapel at the Hartman Funeral home for the service,  my mother along with my aunts & uncle were seated in the area normally used for immediate family.  There was not enough room for everyone, so some of the grandchildren sat in the congregational seating with everyone else.   My brother was the oldest grandchild out of ten , and I was the oldest girl.  I took two of the younger boys (Michael & Wynn) to sit with me.  I put each one of them on either side of me, because they couldn’t sit with their mama, and neither could I;  so I guess it was just as much for my comfort as it was for theirs.  I was 22 at the time, Michael was about 11 or 12, and Wynn was only 10.  Imagine having to say goodbye to your Papaw and not being able to sit with your mama & daddy.  I put my arms around them, and we sat there and cried as the preacher gave the eulogy.   

Both of the boys were taking it pretty hard… through their tears they would say “I want my Papaw”.  When the service was over and we were getting ready to make the precessional to the Bogue Chitto cemetery, for some reason Wynn couldn’t go.  It may have been because they didn’t think he would understand, I’m not sure exactly.  But he REALLY wanted to see where Papaw was, so they took him to the cemetery the next day.   When they made it to the cemetery,  they explained to him about the family plot;  about how everyone in the family would have a place to be buried.  And very matter of factly he asked…where is my place…?

 Oh you don’t have to worry about that right now, you are just a little boy. 

He died the next day (August 8, 1981).  

They buried him at Papaw’s feet.