Dad built and owned Byron’s Auto Body and Paint and ran his own business for over 40 years. He worked as a mechanic, painter and body man. The skills he knew, he taught to his children – and for a quarter or sometimes a dollar, he would have us kids masking, painting or repairing cars. The things that dad taught us helped us throughout our adult lives. He was a great teacher.
He was a builder. Dad retired at age 66 and built a cabin on the south side of the hill near Current Creek. He planned to enjoy his retirement there. He bought a prebuilt-cabin that the company was preparing to tear it down. Dad offered to remove it if he could buy it from them. They agreed and gave him a good deal. Before he dismantled it, he numbered each log so he knew exactly where it should go then reconstructed it on his property. During construction and after it was built, the family spent a lot of time there. Sometimes dad entertained us by playing the guitar. He would sing and yodel crazy cowboy songs. Sometimes the kids tried to yodel with him but he usually ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t sing anymore. We had a lot of memorable family gatherings at the cabin but when dad’s health began to fail he had to sell it. Nonetheless, with the help of his wife and kids, dad reached his lifelong dream.
I considered my Dad an avid explorer. He loved to see new places and be outdoors. Occasionally, he would pile all of us kids in the back of the camper or motor home and start driving. I never knew if he had a destination in mind but he would eventually find a nice scenic place to stop and play. Most of us had fond memories of our trips but some turned into learning experiences. On one trip to Yellowstone, the family stopped for a short break at the Visitor Center. Soon everyone was back in the motor home and headed down the road. Before Dad reached Jackson Hole, a Sheriff pulled him over and asked if he was missing any kids? Dad said, “I don’t think so,” and then after looking around the motor home, asked where Aaron was? They realized too late that they left Aaron in the visitor center, so a Park Ranger shuttled Aaron to catch up with the rest of the family. This was not only a good lesson for Aaron but for all of us kids. If dad said get in the car, we all knew what would happen if we didn’t mind.
Some of dad’s outings resulted in some good Bear stories; some real, some not. One story involved a close call with a bear up at dad’s cabin. Dad was taking a break from working when he noticed a bear about 20 feet from his cabin. I guess he was startled, because he told me he asked the bear, “What are you doing here?” He said the bear looked up and started to mosey over toward him so dad decided to make his way back to the cabin. The bear moved closer until he had his nose almost in the crack of the door where dad was peeking through. I guess dad stopped talking to the bear and slammed and locked the door. I have no idea when he left that cabin.
Another close encounter was when dad was 5 years old. He was herding sheep with his father on Bald Mountain and decided to head back to camp. It became too dark so he let the horse have the reins. All of a sudden, the horse shied so hard that dad almost fell off. Up in front of him was a huge black bear standing on its hind legs. Both he and the horse were shivering from fright. After a few minutes, he figured he had no choice but to keep following the trail to camp, so he and the horse moved bit by bit to go around the huge bear. The bear didn’t move or growl so he braved to go a little closer. Just then the moon came out from behind the clouds and revealed -- not a bear -- but a huge burnt tree stump. We were so happy that dad lived to tell the story.
My Dad was a teacher, business man, an avid explorer, a priesthood holder, grandfather and a wonderful husband. My dad was courageous, warm and funny. He loved people and babies. He could calm crying babies when no one else could. He never swore, was composed under pressure and only pretended to be mad at us kids when we did something wrong. He was respected by many. He was always there for us and he will truly be missed.
In closing I would like to share that Fathers hold their children's hands for just a little while... And their hearts forever.
Thank you. Janet (Hancock) Eubanks
Thank you. Janet (Hancock) Eubanks
Janet Also Writes:
It was dad’s 86th birthday on May 8th 2010. I had toe surgery on the 7th and my doctor told me I could not fly for fear of a blood clot. So I was not able to go to dad’s birthday party. All the other siblings were there; even Dave. I was the only one who didn’t go. I missed the last party too. Dave sent me a picture from his cell phone of dad in front of his birthday cake but looking tired and confused. I called dad early in the morning and wished him a happy birthday, sang him a Happy Birthday Song and told him I loved him. He grunted a few times but didn’t say any words. Mom said she just woke him up so I thought maybe he was still groggy, but she said that’s the way he has been for the last few days. She said he was having little strokes.
Dad was going to the neighborhood house to be around others. He exercised, played games, sang and other things to keep his mind and body active. One day he was riding the bus home and he had a hallucination. He thought he saw a little boy burning and was screaming to put the fire out and trying to help him. They took him to the hospital and the doctors told mom that he was low on potassium and that he had pneumonia. After things got too rough for mom to handle on a daily basis, she put him in a rest home. He was in a rest home for a month or more. Medicare wouldn’t pay for the original 90 days so mom had to take him back home. It’s too much work for her to take care of a grown man. She is too small to lift him or dress him. Aaron has been helping out a lot. It must be his calling. I understand that Dennis and Dale helped a few evenings getting him dressed and cleaned up or letting him stay over at their house. Scott and everyone helped out at one time or other and more times than not. Dad was lucky to have so many kids to help mom look over him.
Everyone was telling me that dad wouldn’t make it through the week. He can’t sit up alone; go to the restroom or talk. I don’t know if he understands what’s going on. Mom said that the pills he has been on no longer works and so she took him off of them. He just had a biopsy on his tumor under his jaw line. Mom wasn’t going to give him antibiotics because she didn’t think it would be worth it because she believes dad won’t live long enough. The next day she did get the antibiotics and began feeding them to dad but he wasn’t able to swallow pills. I think she got drops and she did say the tumor was going down.
So here I am sitting here with my foot up waiting for dad to die so I can attend his funeral. It doesn’t seem right. I don’t know what to do….
It’s hard for me to comprehend that he will pass away soon. When he was in Alaska, I thought it was going to be his last days on earth because he was so sick but he lasted 26 more years. The only reason I moved back to the States was because I wanted to be sure I was able to go visit dad because I didn’t know how long he would be around. Maybe he will last a little bit longer. I know that’s wishful thinking but who knows with dad, he fooled me once.
I asked mom if I should come see dad? She didn’t think I should - not unless you can make two trips close together.
It’s all a blur but the next day and even the evening before my sister Teri, my niece Makayla, and my brothers Dale, Dennis and Scott told me that dad was waiting to see me. Teri made a one way ticket reservation to fly me out the next morning. I arrived in Utah the next day before noon. Two and a half days after his birthday. When I first saw dad, he was lying looking at the ceiling in his bed breathing very hard but wasn’t moving. He was stiff as a board when I talked to him his eyes moved a little and he tried to voice something but it was a weak grunt. He tried twice and then gave up. So, I did the talking. Everyone that was in the room left me with him but he stopped breathing. I was prepared to do CPR. I called mom and Scott to come back because dad wasn’t breathing but they didn’t hear me, so I shake dad and watch his pulse, ready to start CPR. Mom walked back in and dad started breathing again. He stopped breathing for about one minute. When he started breathing again it was labored and appeared to take all his strength. I didn’t know what was going on. He was stiff and when I went to hug him mom said to be careful because of his bruise. I gave him a hug and he seemed to know it was me because his eyes were trying to look at me and he made some little noises, the most he had done since I was there.
Dad couldn’t talk so I don’t know if he was in pain or not. Mom told me he had a massive heart attack just before I got there. I had so many feelings and thoughts. I kept wondering how my mom had watched her husband change and how she just kept trying to take care of him by taking him to the doctors, feeding him his pills and pain killers, standing by him when he became frustrated and sometimes abusive. Dad never raised a hand to us kids but mom would say he would be delirious at times and hit her or if she tried to grab him he would fight her off. It was somewhat scary to think since he was so much bigger than her. Yet there I was looking at a shell of my father. His weight dropped so much and he hadn’t eaten for two weeks. He looked like a holocaust victim.
For two days I watched dad and listened to his rasping breathing, death rattle, and it was sad and scary. I tried to sit him up so his breathing would be better. I had Dennis help me pick him up while I put pillows under his head. It might have been a little better but I don’t know. I thought it would help his rattle, the mucus in his throat or lungs.
Scott was there when I came but he had to leave. Everyone kept coming over but couldn’t stay because of work or family.
Dad died at 8:35 p.m. on May 13, 2010 while lying in his bed. John, Dennis and I were sitting by his bed talking and waiting. I noticed the breathing had changed and I knew his time was close. His breathing wasn’t as labored, it was quieter. John was on mom’s bed and Dennis was on the other side by the bookshelves. I was standing at his feet. He would quit breathing between every five breaths. He seemed like he was giving up because he was so tired. I thought I should call Lee he was the only one that had been there since I got there. I knew dad would not make it through the night and thought I would let Lee know it would be the last time. He didn’t want to. He saw dad earlier and wanted to remember dad that way.
While talking to Lee, Dad made a loud growling sound-I believe he was fighting for his last breath. I didn’t know if he was inhaling or exhaling but it scared all of us. We were shocked and then we started laughing because we were surprised. Dennis was leaning over him listening to him breath when he growled. Maybe dad was doing it on purpose….
No, I don’t know why but it wasn’t long until he stopped breathing. He probably took a few normal breaths then stopped breathing again. The second time he gave in and quit breathing. I shook his leg when he went longer than 40 seconds, then I started calling dad but he didn’t take another breath-he wasn’t going to breathe again.
Dennis was talking to Dave and texting Scott that he was gone. I told Lee that he quit breathing. I told him I would call him back. Dennis was watching his pulse. I reached up and felt warm air coming out of his body but it wasn’t a breath. It was like his spirit was leaving him. Dennis watched and told us when his pulse was gone. He was too fragile to do CPR and I didn’t think he would be too happy having to live in that condition. He wasn’t my dad, he was a shell.
Before dad passed, Dennis told him that he loved him and not to worry about us and go with the others. John told him it was okay to leave and see his relatives. Earlier, I laid down by dad and told him that when he goes to heaven and he sees grandma and grandpa that he should give me a call and tell me what it’s like. I told him to borrow somebody’s phone, but then I thought he wouldn’t do that because he doesn’t like to use the cell phone. Oh well, it was worth a try.
I called mom up and told her that she needed to come home. She was taking some books back to a lady after she helped Maddy with her WWII homework. She was home within minutes. She walked in and touched his head and then put her head against his. Mom didn’t cry. I think she was so overwhelmed with what she had been through. She also knew that he was with his friends and relatives in heaven and knows that she would be with him again.
Everyone showed up shortly after. The nurse, Sarah, and Rudy the caregiver said that we have 24 hours before the coroner comes to take him away so we said an hour would be long enough. After Rudy the caregiver bathed and dressed dad, they came and wrapped him up in his blanket, carried him to the front room and laid him on a gurney. From there they took him to a van. John, Dennis, Scott and Aaron helped the coroner lift him from his bed.
Mom wanted me to sleep with her in dad’s bed and I just couldn’t do it. She begged me every night. I think she may have been lonely or something but I couldn’t do it. I would lay there during the day but not at night. I hope mom wasn’t too upset with me. It seemed like I should have been there for her but if I had I would not have been able to sleep. Not that I got much sleep anyway. I was preparing for a funeral. Getting everyone organized and seeing if they wanted to speak at the funeral. Every sibling did except Lee.
It took Scott and I a lot of hours to prepare the program. He did the inside and outside covers. He did Byronism’s on the back...things that we kids remembered dad saying. I did the content or agenda and I had a lot of help from people, like Bob Timothy, his wife and Joan, his aunt – I think. They helped with the obituary that I wrote and gave me ideas for the program. Dorothy brought food every day. We met cousins I never met before. It all worked out. I didn’t cry until I got up in front of everyone at the service, then I cried like I never cried before.
After the service, my 8 brothers carried dad’s casket to the grave site. Dad must have been very proud to have 8 boys to carry him.
I learned a lot about dying in the short time I was with dad. How a person breathes, death rattle, molting, blue fingernails and toenails, how one holds their breath but I don’t know if that happens with everyone. Dad lost so much weight. It was very hard for me but what can you do.
Janet’s short stories remembered about dad:
When I was young, I remember dad was always up before me. Sometimes he would make mush or pancakes. He would always say, eat-it’s good for you - it’ll stick to your ribs.
This year I will be 50 years old. I remember when dad turned 50. I found him sitting in the middle of the kitchen with all the kids standing around. I wished him a happy birthday but he just looked at the floor. I asked what was wrong with him. I don’t remember his response but I could tell he was depressed about being 50. He said he was half a century old. A year or two later, his mother died on his birthday. He made it to 86 and five days later he died. However, he had a lot of good birthdays.
When I started college, I got really tired of walking to the bus in the snow to get to school. The second year I begged dad for a car. He gave me a red Chevy super sport. I was grateful to be able to drive to school; however, it was more trouble than it was worth. You would think that if my dad was a mechanic, he would give his daughter a safe ride, but instead, I had to start the engine with a screw driver. Before and after school, I would have to pop the hood and connect the alternator and starter with the screw driver, which started the engine. Dad would also make me grease my own car. He would put it up on the car hoist and give me an oil gun. I was squeezing this thick grease in places under my car, hoping it was right. Dad would check and not say anything so I figured it was. My steering wheel fell off while I was getting on the freeway ramp. Fortunately I was able to cross the freeway and go into a gas station. Here I was holding a steering wheel and no control over a car. It was held on with one big nut so I screwed it back on and headed home. One good thing about a Chevy is that when I ran into the Volkswagen parked in the school parking lot it didn’t leave a dent on my fender but crushed the bug like aluminum foil. I learned to change tires on that car and drive in snow. I guess there is a silver lining to this story. Actually, the guys loved my car, they were mostly Mexican though. J
BLUEBELL
I remember talking to dad about going to Bluebell to see where he grew up. He always said that would be good idea but we never had time. Every time I went to Utah to visit my family, my days were so packed that we were never able to take a few days to go. On May 19, 2010, after dad passed away and before he was buried we decided we would take a trip to Bluebell. Cheri, Dale’s girlfriend, mom, Makayla and I drove to Bluebell. Thanks to Cheri for her spontaneity, we just did it. It probably hasn’t changed much. There were lots of fields and a few houses and one park. There was one store on the corner. Of course it was called the Bluebell Store. We met dad’s sister - Ruby’s daughter. Coleen Robert Miles and she invited us to her house where nothing but green fields and pastures surrounded the house. She fixed us lunch, pizza, and then took us to meet her daughter and granddaughter who had a new foal, chickens, ducks, goats, dogs and kittens. Then she took us to where dad went to elementary school. The building had been torn down for years. Across and down the road from where the school was where dad and his parents lived but their house was gone. I believe his grandparent’s house was still standing nearby but it had new siding according to Coleen. We went to the Bluebell graveyard and Coleen showed us her family and relatives; such as the Goodrich’s and the Hancock’s. Mom made our trip to Bluebell exciting with a few close calls. I saw a road sign with Bluebell on it and I wanted a picture so I asked mom to stop. She had passed it so she turned around on a double yellow on a curve and while she was straddling the double yellow she paused a little longer than most and looked out over the fields and said, “Isn’t that the most beautiful green you ever saw.” Makayla, Cheri and I were looking up and down the road for oncoming traffic. Good thing there isn’t a lot of traffic coming in and out of Bluebell. Another close call was while she was looking at something in the car and ended up in the other lane with oncoming cars but mom at the last minute was able to get back into our lane. The last straw was when she went to throw her gum out the window and ended up on the dirt shoulder but she was able to whip it back up into our lane once again and was able to get the car back under control. All in all, the trip was fun even though we almost died.
ALASKA
“Alaska or Bust” That’s what I remember written on the back of the motor home’s dirty window when Dad and mom drove to North Pole, Alaska to visit Scott and me in the summer of 1984. Mom, Dennis, Teri, Aaron and David came as well. Scott and I had just finished building and moving into our house that we built after living in a government trailer through the first winter. When dad climbed out the door, he was all smiles. I remember a letter dad wrote November 23, 1982, telling me that he ordered books about Alaska because he would like to visit but wasn’t sure he would get to. It was the only letter he ever wrote to me. When dad got to our house the thing I remember is him trying to fix something on the motor home. He was always tinkering.
While mom, dad and the kids were in Alaska, we traveled to Anchorage, Valdez and Homer. On July 18, Scott and I drove to Valdez and mom and dad followed us. We went Salmon fishing and dad and mom chartered the boat. We caught 21 salmon. Dad loved Salmon fishing. We caught and filleted our own fish. When we were cleaning the fish, dad was making fun of me because I was grossed out. I had to do it to prove I could do it and I did. Dad was impressed. Scott and I went down to a river and saw Dennis gutting a fish and we told him that he was in trouble for catching a fish without a license. He was not too concerned and continued cleaning the fish. He was not worried. The next day, we headed for Anchorage. I rode with mom and dad in the motor home because Scott, my husband, had to head back to Fairbanks so he could fly to Bethel, Alaska to work on Native Allotments. Mom had her 56th birthday in Anchorage, so the kids and I bought her a big white teddy bear to take back with her. She really liked it to my surprise and still has it 26 years later. While we were in Anchorage, we visited Duane Sorenson and his wife and stayed for a night. We left on Monday and headed to Homer. I remember dad let me drive the motor home down this long, winding, narrow two-lane road. I was driving my best but I guess I went over the yellow line too many times so he told me to stay in between the lines. Fortunately, we made it and he stopped worrying. The road was lined and covered by spruce trees and birch trees with flickering sunshine between the leaves. I guess I was too busy watching the scenery. As we approached the end of the road it opened up into green fields, and a small town that sat next to the ocean. It was so picturesque dad couldn’t believe it. He thought it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. We drove through the town and ended at the water. We got their a little late so decided to walk around. We saw a lady that caught a 134 pound halibut. We wanted to catch halibut so we went to bed. Early the next morning, dad chartered a boat at $75 per person for half a day and went deep-sea fishing for Halibut. When we stepped out of the motor home there was a very fine mist of rain. Dad wasn’t feeling very well so he bought us tickets and laid down in the motor home while we were fishing. We wore our slickers and fishing boots. We all caught our halibut. Dennis caught the biggest one at 25 pounds and I caught a 20 pound fish. Together we caught 94 pounds of fish. We paid someone to clean and cut up the fish. Dennis and I drove to Denali Park. We slept in the parking lot because we got there really late. We ate halibut for dinner the next two nights: BBQ and Breaded. Dad was still on Utah time and was always making us get up three hours earlier than normal. I was beat! On our way home, we drove the Denali highway and found a glacier to climb on. It was the most beautiful blue green color I had ever seen. Scott, Aaron, David Teri, Dennis and I hiked up crossing gravel streams to the top. Dennis and David were running around them like they had a little bit of deer in them. Dennis jumped and climbed so fast and high, it amazed us.. he never got tired.
The most I remember of dad on this trip is him working on the motor home or cleaning the windows. He would ask Scott for this or that or run to the store to pick it up so he could fix something or other. It always made me feel like he was getting ready to leave.
We went to Alaska Land, a fairground that had frontier land exhibits. We mostly went just to feed them the beer-battered halibut which was Scott and my favorite. We ate beer-batter halibut, coleslaw and beans on a paper plate and sat down on long picnic tables and benches in the dirt. We ate so much. Afterwards we walked around and saw the Alaskan native and mining camps exhibits. Before mom and dad left, we visited “Santa Clause House” in the North Pole. It’s a gift shop but it’s also a place where all of the kids send their Santa letters. From there, they all headed home.
We had a memorable time and I was really sad after they left. It was hard for me to let them go.
California - Short stories
Every time I called and talked to dad on the phone he would always ask when I was coming to see him. I tried to visit at least twice a year when I got back to the States. Dad and mom came to our house in 2005. We sat outside in my backyard and would look out over the valley. He didn’t talk much, just said it was a nice view. When he got ready to leave, he told me to come and visit and he would sure miss me. He would always tell me he would miss me - I miss him.
When I was younger and living at home, he would always ask me if I would make him some cookies. He liked the kind that had dates or mincemeat in the middle. I would make and cut out sugar cookies and then put mincemeat in between the sugar cookies and back them. He was so excited when I showed him what I made for him. He also liked Peanut brittle and Boston baked beans . I remember he would ask me to go buy some for him. He would also ask if I wanted a Arctic Circle Shake and of course I would always get him one if I could have one.
I remember dad had a pop machine in his body shop and I would always reach my hand up the slot and trip the machines so a pop would fall out. I think every kid knew how to do that. Dad caught me once and said in a low growling voice, “what are you doing?” and I just laughed. After that I would ask dad if I could have money or the keys to the pop machine so I could buy or open the machine and get a pop
There is a strip of pictures of dad and me when I was maybe 5 years old. I remember we were holding hands but I don’t remember where we were. I think we were at Lagoon for the Kimball reunion. Dad must have won the straw hat for me and then we took a picture together.
When I was about the same age, it was Christmas time and I Wanted to buy something for Grandma Timothy. I remember begging for someone to take me to the store so dad got his shoes and coat on and took us to Walgreens. I picked out a red velvet covered box that had candy in it and I didn’t have enough money so dad made up the difference. Grandma Timothy passed away a few years ago but before she did, she gave me back the red velvet covered box. She kept it all these years and dad was there to make it happen. It meant a lot to me.
Mom would tell me when I was a toddler that dad would take me down to the other garage and sit me on his desk in a parts box. Dad had a conversation piece because customers would come in and ogle over me. I guess mom came to my rescue. That may have been the start of my body shop career. When I was older, dad would pay me to tape and sand cars. Up until I got a job at 14 years old at my uncle Brent’s theater I worked for my dad. He taught me a lot.
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