In memory of Mike W. Stepanik, 5-12-1945 – 3-10- 2010: Words cannot explain How much you mean to me You’re my dad, my one and only Even though you left Heaven is never far You are still in my heart While you are in heaven Please watch over me You have taught me so much But there is still so much more to know I’m not going to say goodbye I’ll say I love you And see you later Our paths will cross again one day I love you, Dad More than you’ll ever know I know you are my shining star in heaven No matter how far away you seem Heaven is never far.
Chad, Crystal, Zane and Kiptyn
In memory of Mike W. Stepanik, 5-12-1945 – 3-10- 2010:
The Broken Chain
We little knew that morning that God was going to call your name. In life we loved you dearly, in death we do the same. It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone. For part of us went with you, the day God called you home.
Our family chain is broken, and nothing seems the same; but as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.
Naomi, Kelly, Mike,
Crystal, Dustin, Randee and all of your grandbabies
In memory of Geraldine Davis Brewer: In memory of you, Beebe My dearly beloved wife, lover and friend Missing you much Loving you more As I will always love you. No one can or ever will take your place In my heart or in my life For I will always love you Now and forever.
Your loving husband,
Arthur L. Brewer
I am standing upon the seashore
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud on the horizon,
Just where the sea and the sky come to mingle with one another.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone.”
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side,
And she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
“There, she is gone,” there are other eyes watching her coming,
And other voices ready to take up the glad shout:
“Her she comes!”
And that is dying.
– Henry Scott Holland
Diana, Darlene, “Sebole,”