The Dash in Roy's Life

The Dash in Roy's Life

Welcome to Christianity Oasis. This is The Dash in Roy's Life from our Sojourn With Luz Leigh Collection. We hope you enjoy this enlightening reading and it helps you on your own be-YOU-tiful Christian walk.

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Sojourn With Luz Leigh

The Dash in Roy's Life

Luz Leigh - 22 October 2009

You probably have read something regarding "The Dash" which speaks of the dash we sometimes see on headstones in cemeteries. The dash represents the life of the deceased; from his/her birth through his/her death. We stand at a gravesite and wonder, "What happened during the dash?"

Well, in the life of Roy, there is a dash that I was not a part of, nor did I know much about what happened during those years. But from the time I was a very small child my parents and Roy's parents were close friends, so I was around him a lot. His sister, Wanda, and I were good friends, playing dolls together or wandering in the woods near their home in the Wellington Community.

At the time I thought Roy was much, much older than I, but as always happens, as I became an adult I realized the years between us were not nearly so great. As a kid I could pretty much count on Roy pulling my pigtails at least once a day when I was in his presence. He thought that was so funny. I can remember the grin that would come over his face once he had accomplished his task of picking on me.

There were times when I visited the Henley home when Mr. Bob and Roy would be operating their sawmill which was located just north (if I have my directions correct) of their home. The big saw that split the logs was noisy so I really didn't like to venture too close down there. It was hot, dirty work, but Roy worked alongside his dad just like a grown man. Wanda and I would play on the stacks of lumber when her mom, Mrs. Gladys, deemed it safe for us to do so. I remember one such day when Wanda and I were on top of a stack of two-by-six boards, pretending it was a stage and we were performers. It came time for Roy to add to the stack and we didn't want to move, so he threatened to whack our bottoms with the board he was bringing to the stack. We knew we were safe because his mother was standing nearby with her Kodak camera. She took a picture of the two "performers" but only a portion of the board is in view.

Among the many pictures of have is one taken in front of my home. There is Roy standing behind Wanda and me. Wanda and I are holding his hands as they rest on our shoulders. Roy was almost 15 years old, Wanda was about 13 and I was 11. There are happy smiles on our faces. The picture was dated March 1949 which meant that the long pigtails that Roy so delighted in tugging would only be there about five months longer. We had no way of knowing it, but in less than a year I would give up my mother to death and just three short years later Mrs. Gladys would be taken from them.

When Roy graduated from high school and moved away, the "dash" began in our relationship. I knew he was around somewhere, but it was not until after he and Peggy moved back "home" did he come back into my life. One of the good memories I have of Roy was the day he saw me on my daily walk, pulled off the road and talked to me a few minutes. I was recuperating from cancer surgery and undergoing chemotherapy treatments. He encouraged me to keep up my walking routine, listen to the doctors and never give up. That was over six years ago and I can still remember how much I appreciated his taking the time to stop for those few minutes. Later I learned that was the time of day he would have been on his way to the feed store so he gave up some of his "visitation" time with his friends there to speak with me. But that was the way Roy showed his love and concern for his friends.

The last time I visited with him was, of all places, in Wellington Cemetery. Lane and I were there early one day last summer, seeking information on our ancestors. Roy drove up and in that slow East Texas drawl of his asked, "What in the heck are you two doing down here?" We explained our mission so he joined us as we walked among the graves. Although we knew none of our kin were buried near the Henleys, Lane and I walked with Roy as he looked at the gravesites of his parents and grandparents. Did Roy know how soon he would be joining them in the eternal rest of the dead?

The three of us sat on a concrete bench under one of the trees, recalling happy days of the past. After a while, Roy said he thought it was time for him to head home. We all stood; the men shook hands and Roy gave me the sweetest hug. As he was walking away, he turned and said, "Gal, come to see us sometime." I promised I would, but then I broke that promise. I waited too long to pay that visit.

On Wednesday my younger son called with the news of Roy's death. Thus the dash in his life had come to an end. Although he has physically left us behind on earth, his memories will remain forever. Thank you, Roy, for that.

Note: If you have promised a visit to someone, go without delay. We never know how much time is left for carrying out our plans. I will always regret postponing the visit to Peggy and Roy.

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