The Fat Ewe Farm and Bed and Breakfast
The Fat Ewe Farm and Moose Hills Inn
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Saying Goodbye

11/19/2016

1 Comment

 
My dear Uncle Joe passed away a week ago and today was his funeral. He was the last of the Wosnack brothers, Joe, John, Stan, Walter, and my father, Peter. They were great men. They do not make men like them anymore and today, it was hard to say goodbye to a man who exemplified the epitome of what a man should be. It was double tough because he was part of my father too, and so much reminded me of that strong and great man whom I miss every day. 

There were some cousins there at the funeral. It was held at the Roman Catholic Church in the small town of Redwater, where Uncle Joe had lived his entire life. He never wanted to move on to greener pastures, for where he was, was always the perfect place for him to be. Uncle Joe was a highly intelligent man, as all the Wosnack brothers were, and all were successful in their endeavours together and also later when they parted ways and semi retired. Each one had many gifts, though the greatest of all was their indomitable spirits . They simply never gave up. They were good for the soul. 

Most of my cousins, the children of these great men, are also highly successful. Some were CEOs of large companies and have now retired. One cousin drove his brand new Porsche to the funeral. Too bad it snowed. Even the females, the daughters of these men are successful business people with personal acumen that is enviable in any realm. It was not just the intellects that were great in the Wosnack brothers, but they could think. It is one thing to be smart and a whole other to be able to solve problems. Not long ago, I brought a toaster to Uncle Joe that had lost its plug and asked him if he would mind fixing it for me. He laughed good naturedly , as he always did, and asked why I had not fixed it. Typical. But he did accept that minor challenge and I picked the antique Sunbeam toaster up from him on the next visit with a new plug, or rather a plug that he saved from some other project which was new to the toaster. That was how it was in life too.

I am proud to be a Wosnack. We are not perfect, however, we have good genes I think. I saw it today again and it was reinforced when I sat with my cousins, two highly successful people who were also benevolent with their volunteer time, great parents and very compassionate and kind people themselves. It was wonderful to sit with them and reminisce and chat. Old times are never far from the heart. 

And so it is in life. Some people touch our lives and hearts in remarkable ways, ways that we wish we could emulate. Some people never do, but perhaps for another they are just as effective. Each will resonate with those who need to hear and share the gifts the soul has to offer. It was that way today. It was that way with Uncle Joe. Last time I saw him, he asked me why I chose to farm at this juncture in my life when most are retiring and taking it easy. I said I was trying to keep the good Wosnack name going and he laughed, that warm, encompassing, hearty laugh, then in a soft voice, asked me if I would stay for supper. It was our last one. Goodbye Uncle Joe and thank you. Thank you for being part of the Wosnack brothers and sisters that made the clan what we are today. The legacy continues and the heritage goes on. Thank you so very much. 
Picture
Saying see you next time to my Uncle Joe and Auntie Nettie. Only, there was no next time for him.
1 Comment
Moab
11/23/2016 10:15:52 am

I am sad to hear that the last of the Wosnack men have passed as I know how much you loved your father. Even though I don't know you that well I think you must be sad that you never met a man that had the equal fortitude of those men. Knowing the strength of your constitution may have prevented a great relationship but I'm sure it would have been enduring.
I had an equally strong mother and father in their unique ways and wished I had early on met someone more like my mother.

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    Fluffy writes daily about the experiences on the farm and with the bed and breakfast patrons. 

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