Omer James Fancey3 August 1903 - 25 August 1967
I remember his lace-up boots with the hooks at the ankles. I remember his dark ruddy complexion from the sun. I remember lying on my grandpa's lap and him blowing fragrant smoke into my ear as a remedy for my ear aches. I remember him giving me those round red and white peppermint candies for my stomach aches. I remember curling up against him when I slept. I remember his kindness. He died on Sunday, August 25, 1967. He was 64. I was 11. The sun was shining and it was in the low 70s. A beautiful day. I remember my mother walking in the door weeping.
His death was expected and may have been a blessing; I was too little to understand. He had been in and out of the hospital for a while for his emphysema. Having worked in the brass factory during the war; his lungs were riddled with tiny holes from breathing metal sparks.
I am blessed that I knew him and have a memory of him. Some people are not as lucky.
