Uncle Jewell

Uncle Jewell
written by
Brian Barnett
I don’t remember a great deal about my Uncle Ewell. He died when I was only 8 years old. I know that he was my mamaw’s oldest brother and I remember that I called him Uncle Jewell. I also remember that my mamaw and I would bring him his groceries when he lived in the Woodside Apartments Complex. I remember, also, that we would visit him on occasion when he lived in the nursing home.
His wife had died around eight years before he did and he never had any children, so I’m not exactly sure how spirits were when he was alone. But I certainly remember his big smile whenever we came through the door to see him. He was always nice to me. He was quiet, but enjoyed a good laugh.
I remember that he was the first family member that I was familiar with that died. I understood there was finality to death by then. I also understood that I would never see him again. I asked, not knowing quite what to expect, to go to his funeral. My parents didn’t want me to go – partly because I was so young, and partly because I was in school – so I wanted to do something special for him.
I think I was in the third grade at the time. Earlier in the year we did an art project where we made flowers out of pipe-cleaners and some tulle fabric. I asked if my parents could take it to him for me. I suppose I thought in some way that he would know that I was there for him and that I cared about him. Maybe it was foolish, but I hoped that maybe it would bring another one of those big trademark smiles back to his face.
He was buried in Sunset Memorial Gardens. It is my understanding that the flower was in the casket with him.
Category:Stories from the Cline Family
Category:Stories