My Uncle Richard passed away yesterday. He was my grandfather Emmett's younger brother. In many ways, Richard functioned much like Granddaddy's oldest son, and it pains me to know how my grandfather must be hurting right now.
Emmett was 14 years older than Richard. Their father, John Henry Ard, abandoned them for many years when Richard was just a small boy. Emmett, a good-looking, rugged football player, quit high school to go to work to support his mother and siblings. He was energetic, loud, cocky and quite dashing, and Richard looked up to him greatly.
Richard Ard grew to be a quite handsome and responsible man. He had seven children with his wife Louise, who sadly passed away many years ago from cancer. Richard's family has always been the anchor of the Ard clan. Strongly connected to one another, they are the center of our Ard family reunions and get-togethers. They are a loving, hard-working group of genuine Southern folk who are entrenched in good-hearted family values and actually seem to enjoy each others’ company.
His family has my long-term respect and gratitude for always being dependably supportive. They were all, of course, at my Uncle Felton's funeral. While many of my very close and intimate relatives from ‘right down the road’ failed to attend my own wedding, my Uncle Richard's clan was all there--unfailingly present despite the distance.
I credit both Uncle Richard and my granddaddy with the strength of Uncle Richard's family. Whereas my own grandfather Emmett suffered from the lack of a father, he provided that role for Uncle Richard, and they have always been close. Despite John Henry's poor example, my grandfather pulled through and stayed consistent to his family—thereby providing a consistent example for his younger brother Richard to emulate. Emmett did suffer through a bit of alcoholism in his early years, per his father's example, but he had the strength of mind to overcome that for the sake of his family, and he became a strong Christian and, eventually, the Reverend Emmett Ard--an enthusiastic and devout Pentecostal Holiness minister. I still recall his “Jumpin’ for Jesus” sermon… I thoroughly enjoyed it and have rarely witnessed such charisma in the pulpit!
Uncle Richard was a grounded Capricorn man (though I doubt he even knew that he was a Cap!) who kept his family close. He was always thoughtful of the younger folks. I recall that I was staying with my grandparents for a bit the summer of my 16th birthday, and I thought that my grandparents had completely forgotten that it was my birthday. However, Uncle Richard came by their house for a visit, and Granny mentioned, while they rocked on the porch, that it was my birthday. Though he had been clueless about that fact, he showed great diplomacy. Granny obviously didn’t want to make a big deal about my birthday, so he didn’t either, but he did slip me some cash, whispered ‘Happy Birthday’, and gave me a warm hug—which meant so much to me, after my Granny and Granddad’s seeming indifference throughout the entire day (how I do hold a grudge!). Uncle Richard provided the only bright moment of my 16th birthday, and I’ve always treasured that small, thoughtful gesture.
Granddaddy reaped what he sowed in quite a wonderful way… Emmett was the surrogate father and model for young Richard, and, accordingly, in Emmett’s late years, he received the love and support due a father from his eldest son. Uncle Richard lovingly visited Emmett regularly, and, when Emmett became ill with prostate cancer, Richard would drive some distance and work ceaselessly to keep up Granddaddy’s small farm for him—I believe more for moral support than for practical reasons. It did Granddad good to see his place maintained, and I maintain that it was done with the love and care of a son to his ‘father’.
Uncle Richard suffered from Parkinson’s in his last decade or so. It was debilitating and, I couldn’t help but feel, terribly unfair for a man who had given so much love and care and consistency to his family and community. In fact, there has been some association between a high rate of Parkinsonism in farmers and the synthetic chemicals used, but I won’t go into that now, though the cruel irony that Uncle Richard was being perversely punished for his years of helping my grandfather keep up his farm has always struck me. Of course, Uncle Richard kept his own farm as well, but the extra exposure while helping my grandfather could have only negatively contributed.
Uncle Richard was an anchor and a source of loving warmth in the Ard family. He was a man who doubtlessly had no idea the degree to which he inspired and encouraged and unified those around him.
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