“I will be generous with my love today. I will sprinkle compliments and uplifting words everywhere I go. I will do this knowing that my words are like seeds and when they fall on fertile soil, a reflection of those seeds will grow into something greater.” ~ Steve Maraboli
1941-11-29 – 2023-06-03
Cousin Jessica Terry Stigall asked me what I thought Dad and Phillip were talking about as we left the hospital this morning. “Phillip, what are you doing here so soon?” I said. It has only been seven months since Dad passed. Phillip died at 8 am, exactly one week after learning he had an inoperable hemorrhagic brain tumor that caused a massive stroke. Anybody else would have probably died instantly, but for being 81, Phillip was incredibly healthy, cancer notwithstanding. He exercised every day. He kept up his yards and helped his girls and his grandchildren. He helped anybody that needed it. He was one of the most positive people I’ve ever known. He was a career Army man, having served for a time in the Air Force as well. He loved to have a good time. You rarely saw him without a smile. He had a hearty laugh and a gentle, easy soul. His passing has hit the family especially hard, I think. The most obvious is how soon after Dad died, we hardly had time to regroup, but unlike his five brothers and one sister who had passed before him, each of which occurred over a period of years with the exception of Ralph Paul, who was KIA in Vietnam 1969 – Phillip’s demise was sudden, unexpected, and shocking. It also closes a major chapter of The Terry Story, as he is the last of the first four sons born to Hazel Prater and Thornton Terry. By all accounts related to me by my aunts and uncles, these four brothers grew up particularly close: Randolph (d.2010), Shorty (d.2022), Gregory (d.2017), and Phillip (d.2023). They helped break in Hazel and Thornton for parenthood. That in itself would have been a tall order, but the first three were born in coal camps, and Phillip was born in the Catholic Hospital in Hazard. Dad often recounted the story of his birth and his difficulty as a sickly baby. Apparently, he wouldn’t/couldn’t nurse, so Papaw Terry took healing into his own hands. He held Phillip while Dad squirted milk from their cow Daisy’s teet directly into Phillip’s mouth. They repeated this over a period of weeks until Phillip began to gain strength. Phillip lived, of course. Was it because of their unusual measures? Dad never waivered from his story or his belief that their efforts pulled Phillip through. Who am I to argue? It wasn’t easy growing up in a coal camp. By the time Phillip came along, America was being pulled into WWII, and their already hard way of life was about to get even harder. These are the things that bind families in ways people of privilege will never fully understand. Though Randolph served at least one enlistment in the Marines, Dad and Phillip served multiple enlistments during wartime. That, too, will bond men and women in ways few other things ever will. So what are those Terry boys talking about tonight up there in Heaven? “I bet they’re telling Army stories,” Jessica said. I bet she’s right. Wednesday, we will turn the page to the next chapter.
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