Luther McKinley Davis, 1917 – 2005

Song Lyric of the Day:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord / He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored / He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword / His truth is marching on.

Julia Ward Howe / “Battle Hymn of the Republic”

10:06PM.
Mom and I drove to Richlands, VA, this morning for Tamara’s grandfather’s funeral. The turnout was impressive, as a lot of family and friends were there to pay their respects. I thought my heart would break when Tamara introduced me to her grief-stricken grandmother, who thanked me for coming, then grabbed me in an embrace and broke down crying, telling me how sad she was and how much she loved him. The service began when 11 of Mr. Davis’ comrades from the local Veterans of Foreign Wars chapter approached his flag-draped coffin in a single-file line, and saluted him one by one as “Battle Hymn of the Republic” played; the same veterans would later serve as the honor guard at his internment at the mausoleum.

The pastor then said a few words, followed by Tamara’s father, James, and his brother, Jerry. Jerry started to speak, describing how they, along with their sisters, wrote down a few thoughts about their father, and simply called it “Dad.” He only managed to read the first word, “Daddy,” before he was overcome with emotion. James patted him on the back, then stepped in and took over reading. He told of a coal miner who wanted better for his own children, children who never realized they were poor because they never wanted for anything. He told of a man who liked or disliked the various girlfriends and boyfriends brought home by his children over the years, who always let the ones he didn’t like know it. He told of a man who heeded the call of his country and joined the U.S. Navy. He told of a man who could never bring himself to say out loud, “I love you,” to his sons until the last 10 years of his life. He told of a man who saw things in terms of the future: his children, his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren. James did say that his father was not a saint, merely a man who tried, and succeeded, to live a good life. I think he said it best with the last, simple sentence of the Davis children’s eulogy: “He was a man, and he was our father.”