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Re: C. B. Roberts Jesus works in my heart through unseen paths and unseen ways of his spirit now through you and this e-mail. It put tears in my eyes and renewed love in my heart for Jesus, by his grace I was saved. Aunt Maye's diary on mom's memorial page of my web site. Jesus bless you Nancy I will forward this to family and put it on my web site as soon as I am able to my work schedule this week delays that part. He was Rufus R Roberts was Sarah Annie Roberts brother and C. B. her nephew. More than one of mom's first cousins on adjoining farm had airplanes and flew, they often gave the first cousins and kids rides in their plane. I remember also first ride in airplane with cousin and mom and mixed family. We were all pretty close when on grandad's farm, his brother lived on the adjoining farm and three of his children learned to fly. Mom and C.B. made the one flight we're striving hard to make to heaven when Jesus calls us home. Tom Smith and Fran Smith tom.smith@verizon.net
Nancy L Fagan wrote: My father, C. B. Roberts passed away on April 28th of this year. He was the youngest child of Clara and Rufus R. Roberts of Elbert, Texas (noted in your story as Aunt Clara and Uncle Ruf). I wrote a memoir of his life, and would like to share it with others in the family. He has a sister, Lila Jones that still lives in Olney, Texas, and a brother, Don Roberts that lives in Weatherford, Texas. I have attached the document in Wordperfect and in Microsoft word: Thank you so much, Nancy (Roberts) Fagan.
My father was born the youngest of five children in the year 1926. His Dad was a farmer, raising cotton in northwest Texas, and a devout member of the Church of Christ. His family never had much, but their little farm house was neat and tidy. Dad loved his mother very much, and at the age of 17 when he enlisted in the Army to serve in World War II, he named his mother as his beneficiary for a life insurance payment of $10,000. He figured if he did not come back home, his mother would be well taken care of, because that was a lot of money in those days.
He did come home after serving in the 511th Parachute Infantry, 11th Airborne Division where he saw combat action in the Philippines (island of Cebu), and spent time in Tokyo, Japan during our occupation period. He returned home after the war to follow the harvest, trucking wheat from the fields in the Panhandle to the grain elevators in Fort Worth. It was during this time that C. B. met Leola Deitrich, and she sometimes accompanied him on his trips to Fort Worth. In 1951, they drove to Tyler, Texas, where they married. When Dad went to downtown Tyler to look for work, he was wearing a cowboy hat, and looking like most of the guys in west Texas. He found that he was a little out-of-place in Tyler, the East Texas oil boom town. He did get a job working for Texas Power and Light Company reading meters, and bringing home about $100 a month.
In 1955, C. B and Boots were blessed with their first child, a baby boy, and two years later, along came a baby girl. C.B. and Boots were very caring parents, always wanting their children to have more than they had. They spent the next years of their marriage trying to be the best parents they knew how to be, and trying to support the family and bring their kids up right. C.B. did well at Texas Power and Light, moving from meter reader to bill collector, then manager of the collections department. Even though he was very good at dealing with people, he hated the desk job, and asked to be back in the truck. His last years at TP&L were spent riding in his little S-10 pickup pulling meters, and doing odd jobs that needed done.
When my Dad was working as a meter-reader, he was in a neighborhood one day and a mother came running out of her house, frantic, and screaming that her child was choking. My Dad heard her and followed her into the house, picked up the child and dislodged a piece of candy that was stuck in his throat. The child began coughing and breathing again, and the mother was so grateful. In all the years that I was growing up, I never heard my father relate this story to anyone. I guess he did not want to be thought of as someone who liked to brag.
Another time when my father was driving through downtown Tyler, he saw a friend of the family walking out of the courthouse. She was wavering and stumbling and about to fall. He pulled his truck over, picked her up and drove her home. She had been to the doctor earlier that day, and was having a reaction to some medication she was taking.
In 1966, we moved to a country home on the northwest side of Tyler. Since my Dad was a self-taught small engine repair man, he became known in that area as someone who could work on lawn mowers. And this was something he loved to do. When his job with Texas Power and Light became too much of a burden, he retired in 1985 at the age of 59, and built a small shop at the end of his driveway. People from around the area would bring in wood chippers, chain saws, lawn mowers, and just about anything that needed repair. I remember coming home from my job in Houston, and Dad had 8 lawn mowers in his shop. He proceeded to tell me what was wrong with each one. I was amazed. He loved to tell the story of his retirement from TP&L. Even though he worked there for 34 years, there was no retirement party, or big send-off of any kind. He just walked in, threw his keys to his truck on the desk, and said, I’m done.
I knew when I started to hear my Dad say things like, I’ve run my race, and My bucket is empty, that he did not feel like he had a reason to live. At the age of 77, he enjoyed playing 42 with some of his old TP&L buddies, but for the most part, he was no longer tinkering in his shop, or doing other things he liked to do. He did enjoy walking to a nearby pond to feed fish.
When I called my Mom the Thursday before Easter weekend, to tell her that we were going to visit on Easter Sunday, my Mom said, That’s great, because your Dad wants to take Connor to the pond to feed the fish. On that weekend, we visited with Tracy and his family that morning, then we ate lunch with Mom and Dad. After lunch, we walked down to the pond. Connor, my 6-year old son, did enjoy throwing bread crumbs to the fish. My Dad got such a kick out of watching him. When we got ready to leave that afternoon, I put Connor in his seat in the back and I got in my seat. Then I looked at Dad, standing there next to the truck, and I opened my door, got back out of the truck, and gave him a hug telling him that I loved him. Something just told me to get out and hug him, and now I am so glad I did, because it was our last hug.
I got a call from Tracy on April 28th, around 7:45 a.m. telling me that Daddy fell and hit his head. They thought he had a blood clot in his brain, and they were waiting to take more CAT scans. I called my husband, and told him I had to drive to Tyler, got the keys and began my drive home. On the way, I sang the Lords Prayer, because I knew that the Lord was going to take him to his final home. When I arrived at the hospital, Daddy was sedated, with a breathing tube and heart monitor. His heart rate was around 100 beats per minute, and his blood pressure was high. I picked up his hand to hold it, and the nurse told me. Honey, I know this is hard, but if you touch him, his blood pressure goes up, so try not to touch him. I obeyed her for a few minutes, then I thought, I will hold his hand, and if I see it go up, I’ll let go.
When my brother and my Mom left the room, and I was alone with Daddy, I told him these words. Daddy, you have to relax. You need to go to God, He is a very loving and forgiving God. He is warm and kind, Daddy, you can go to Him! I also told him not to worry, that we would do the right thing (knowing that he did not want to be on life support). When the nurse came in, she noticed that his body temperature had begun to fall. She brought in a warming blanket for him. Then we waited for the neurosurgeon to make his assessment of Daddy. Of course, we all left, and when we came back, we visited with the neurosurgeon. He reported that Daddy was already over 90 percent brain dead, and that if it were his Dad, he would just let him go. We all knew Dad’s wishes. He never wanted to be on life support for any reason. We left the room again so the nurse could remove all the equipment. When we came back in the room, Dad was snoring. He looked so peaceful. As we all stood around him, we watched him take his last breaths. The nurse reported that he did not struggle when she removed the tube, so I believe that my Dad never even suffered. I know that my Dad had certain wishes that he must have asked of God. He did not want to suffer when he died, he never wanted to be in a wheelchair, he never wanted to be an invalid of any kind, and he never wanted to be in a nursing home. I think that God must have truly loved him to grant him all of those wishes. In a sense, when Daddy took his last breaths, I was happy for him because God was so good to him in answering all of his prayers.
When I look at my Dad’s life, I see a person who spent a lot of his time helping others. I think that God intentionally put my Dad in situations to help others because he knew that my Dad was the person for the job. I also think that my Dad was an amazing provider for his family. He never made much money, but put two kids though college, and built a very nice country home for our childhood home.
About two weeks before my Dad died, he drove himself to Pounds Field airport in Tyler and paid to take a ride in a small plane with an instructor. My mother stepped outside when he flew over, and she said that when she saw his plane, she began to cry. She said that she did not understand why that made her cry, and I told her, Mom, maybe you were just happy for him. When my brother picked out the songs for Dad’s memorial service, he picked out the song, Fly, fly away.
How appropriate that song was for Daddy. He had run his race, taken his last flight, and now it was time for him to Fly away to his eternal home.
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