Uncle Wallace

Yesterday I attended the funeral of my mother’s youngest sibling, Wallace Ralph, age 86. He died of Covid-19, complicated by pneumonia. He left behind his wife of 66 years, Jackie, and three precious adult children, plus grandchildren. And a lot of excellent cigars, which he loved.

He moved around quite a bit after getting married very young. He finally landed, several years ago, on the farm where he was born. They built a house on their share of Granddaddy Ralph’s farm, humorously called Vertical Plains. I well remember Grandaddy and Mother bending over a large paper with the outlines of the farm, figuring out which parcel went to each of the nine children. What a plan! It worked well, because four of the nine, plus a grandchild, built on their sections, making Long Hollow Pike in Goodlettsville, Tennessee, more c orrectly called Ralph Road. Many of Luther Ralph’s eleven siblings and their descendants also live along there.

My memories of Uncle Wallace are varied. Since he was just ten years older than I, he didn’t have the interest or protective nature of his older siblings to me. The childless aunts always gave gifts to the grandchildren at Christmas, but not Uncle Wallace—until he married Jackie. (She’s too close to my age for me ever to call her Aunt Jackie, though my younger brother does.) Then we each got a gift from them at Christmas until they had children.

It was wonderful to sing at the funeral with my brothers, sister-in-law, Steve, and three others. We were touched that Jackie asked John to get a group together to sing. We sang the traditional “Amazing Grace” and “It is Well with My Soul,” but also a new one for us: “Sweet Beulah Land.” We didn’t sound as good as the Praise and Harmony version, but we made it and got compliments.

Interestingly, the song that his family departed to was “Blue Moon of Kentucky.” It is truly a funeral song, though in the past I’d not paid enough attention to the lyrics to realize it. Especially for avid Kentucky Wildcats fans, as Wallace was and Jackie is, it was perfect.

His son, Wallace Danley Ralph, Jr., called Danny, gave the eulogy and it was elegant. With pathos and humor, he accurately portrayed his father’s positive traits, his history, and his giving of himself to others. Without using scripture, he inspired everyone there to give of themselves as Uncle Wallace did.

The pastor continued with more details of Uncle Wallace’s trips to Lynch, Kentucky, to aid those in poverty in Appalachia. As he said at the funeral, if you wanted to know what Wallace’s opinion was, all you had to do was ask—and sometimes you didn’t even have to ask. That’s the nature of the Ralphs I’ve known. Only Aunt Juanita kept her opinions to herself; the others share freely. For example, one aunt told my brothers that she didn’t think our singing sounded very good—that we could have done better.

He was the baby of the family. Such irony that he would pass before his brother, Uncle L D, who is 100, when he was only 86. That’s the way it’s said in our family—“only 86.” His father was almost 89 when he died. Aunt Juanita was 97. His two remaining sisters are 88 and 90 and still going strong.

So I, at age 77 tomorrow, still have seven aunts and uncles! Some are by marriage, but after all these years that’s an insignificant detail. I love them all.

I feel such love and sympathy for the whole family. Such an event takes me back to the funerals of my own father and mother. Such bittersweet memories! We feel grief at our own loss and joy for their eternal destinations.

Really made me contemplate what could be said of me at my funeral. Not a depressing thought, but just curiosity. Maybe I’d better start making my mark in the world in a more specific way!

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  I Thessalonians 4:13