Mike A. The fog is slowly lifting from the last week. I did what was asked of me by my dad and have carried it out so far to his satisfaction. My 43 years of life have been nothing short of a miracle. Born to two amazing parents and with a great relationship to have with them as I have has been an absolute blessing. A dear friend told me recently that when a person dies, a library burns to the ground. Between the two of them and especially the recent death of dad, a huge library has burnt to the ground. I also have witnessed Gods hand through every step of this. Michelle is an absolute angel. From the time we found out of his cancer, she was by his side through every single step of the way and words cant express the beauty I witnessed between the two of them. She was an absolute blessing in every shape or form to dad. They loved each other something fiercely and anyone who was around could see that without any effort. Each day from now on begins a new normal and the pain will ease with time. There is no way possible that I could personally thank each one of you who have said the kind words, called, visited or was here for the funeral. There are no words that I know of that can ever thank each of you, so itll just have to be simply, THANK YOU! I will be getting back into the groove soon enough, hopefully Ill get to share a laugh and or a story with each one of you as we cross paths. One of my best pals had this laid on his heart and wrote this down. I think it fits dad and those around him to an absolute T. Lester Armistead He was here to teach, he was there to help, A friend to many, he was a friend for life, He could build a house, he could build a barn, build a cabin or build a mileof fence line. He could raise a goat, a cow, a mule or a horse, he could raise a chicken, farm to table, of course. He could cure a ham or smoke a hog, whole, half or quarter He was green, country green, a re-user and resourceful. He could cook you a country breakfast with country ham and red eye gravy He could make the other kind too, with biscuits and sausage gravy. He could feed you from his garden and tell you the trees that were near He could run a chainsaw or a tractor, turn a wrench or screw driver. He could sing you a country song, a gospel one, too, He had love’s won and love’s lost, it’s true He knew sorrow, sadness and lonesome, but a laugh was his virtue. He could tell you stories of his hero’s, Acuff and Os, He could dance to a fiddle tune, pick the banjo and play a guitar He could tell you all about the Civil War, and show you the battlefields where they fought, This man knew all kinds of stuff. He knew all kinds of people, from royalty to the down and out, He knew the lord, and the feeling was mutual, he was a giver, not a taker,that was his rule. He was Southern through and through, he always knew there was work to do. He was prepared as any scout, he knew where to get the good stuff, just ask Marty Stuart… He didn’t suffer fools, he had a knack for respect, He was a man’s man who could live off the land. He kept his firewood stacked and dry, and a cold Miller Lite always nearby. He was cornbread and overalls, used leather gloves and a good pair of boots. He hosted party’s of pickers and singers, legends and up and comers And they all cherish ‘The Store’…where it sounded so good when Lester would roar.. He’d offer a beer or sip of shine, he loved the simple life of family entwined. He loved his grandkids, Eli and Milynn, he taught them his ways,and what came before them. His boy Mike, now he’s really something, he’s got both Lester and Linda in him… And his Mrs. Michelle, well, you want to talk about somethin’? They cared for this man to the end, then cared for the friends that lost their friend. Once again Lester’s gathered us here…for us to celebrate, not him He chose the singers, he chose the songs, seems he knew what he wanted all along For us to continue in the tradition he started, eating and singing, laughing and drinking He’d have it no other way, allowing our joy to be on display Theres a lot to be learned from this man gone on, that life is short and too soon it’s gone.. It’s up to the others to keep it going, for this isn’t where Lester’s story ends, He’s left it up to us, to keep this party going…. Mike Bub 5/2/2014 Dewey Bub reply: Sitting here alone. listening to a compilation of iris dement songs when I stumbled on this post. As I got through Mike As letter, I had a compassionate feeling in my heart that you tried to do the very best you could do under the circumstances. From those who have gone through this, we stand by you in strength and understand everything you are going through. Hold your head high and know all will get easier in time as it heals most wounds. However, when it comes to Lester, your time may be lengthened a little longer than some. And Then... I continued on to the second part of the post. Immediately felt the cadence and warmth. I stuck with it, and tears began to well, then flood. Choking the breath, I began to wonder if I might know the person who wrote such a beautiful tribute to a family man admired by so many. But, could it be ? Stumbling through the rest, crying and emotionally stricken, at end, I read the author, which was no surprise to me, but ever so grateful to see my brothers name pinned at the end of the quill. As I am still recovering, I am so damn proud to have read such prose that evokes the deepest of emotions. To have such beautiful words attached to a soul who deserved each and every line, letter by letter. Thank you Mike A for all your shares and thank you Mike B for writing one of the most wondrous eulogies Ive ever witnessed.
Posted on: Thu, 08 May 2014 05:01:47 +0000
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