My grandfather, Wilburn O. “Buck” Bewley, 84, was born January 23, 1926, to Elmer and Elva Bewley in Atkins, Arkansas. He married my grandmother, Daphene, on October 4, 1947. He died April 6, 2010, at his home in Chandler, Oklahoma. He was a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend, a mentor…and so many other things to all of us.
I compiled a list of a few memories a while back. This list was of things learned from Grandpa Bewley. There were many things that were good. Things that could be summed up in phrases like “love much” and “listen more”. In receiving tidbits from others, it showed that he cared down to details—like teaching you how to take a fish hook out with a pocketknife, telling you to, “play that one”, or giving you opportunities to do things you would not normally do with anyone else.
He had a style that was uniquely his. Whether it was a suit on Sunday morning, or coveralls through the week while he worked with Uncle Gary on the farm, he always had a way about him. I can remember teasing him one time about a hair that was out of place, and he reacted like a teenager—getting in front of the mirror and combing it down like it could be the end of him. While he was in the hospital, he even made sure I had my coat and tie done right. He always wanted to look his best, but he always wants you to look your best, too.
I remember the meticulous ways he cared for his family. As we sat around the table a couple of days ago, I heard how nearly all of his brothers and sisters, and in-laws stayed at his house over the years, even when he had four children of his own to feed. It was when he opened his home to grandkids when we would, in his words, “just come to eat my groceries.” It was when he took the time to help you understand what buying a home really meant and the intimation that he never thought he would own a brick home—let alone two. It was the prideful look in his eyes when his grandchildren achieved milestones in life—graduations, marriages, or jobs. It was in the moments at Christmas when you could see him survey his house with a fatherly pride because it was crammed to the hilt with people.
He never wasted words. If there was something to say, he always had the right way to say it. His timing was spot on every time, too. Whether it was a critique or a compliment, he knew exactly what to say and when to say it.
I will always remember him as a spiritual mentor. Our conversations we would have during the times we spent feeding cows or in the house will always be treasured. We would cover everything from free will to marriage. He always wanted to insure that we were in church. He worried about the spiritual health of his family. There were times I remember talking to him about things happening with others, and he would try and go visit because he knew that if no one would else would tell them about Jesus, he needed to go.
Jackie Robinson once said, “A life is not as important except in the impact it has on the lives of others.” My grandfather impacted so many lives because he loved people, as they were not and as they should be. He is a man who was consciously aware of and fully available to God and to others. I will miss him sorely. Yet, I can take heart because the one who is in him is greater that things of this world. I know that he is among the worshippers singing to God without pain. I know that he is singing praises to God without worry. I will always count it an honor and a privilege to say that Buck Bewley was my mentor, my friend, and, most of all, my Grandpa.
