RAPP
Rsd A Patient's Perspective:
My goal is to identify RSD and teach others about what it is and what it does. Education is the best weapon.
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Rsd A Patient's Perspective: My goal is to identify RSD and teach others about what it is and what it does. Education is the best weapon.
Welcome to Kathy's Place
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Dedication Page For the people who've traveled beyond this Earthly life: On Monday January 14, I lost my nephew Aron Derrick Poynter.
Aron was a vibrant loving boy who was a joy to be around. My nephew who felt like my
son, was fifteen and a very
handsome young boy. He faced many hurdles in his young life, his parents had passed
in June 14, 1993 and June 6, 2000. His father
was injured in a logging accident in 1990, and his mother passed in a tragic car
accident. I took care of Aron during much of his life, I nicknamed him
"Ron". He was a free spirit and one of the most giving and loving 15- year-olds I have ever met. I know his life has ended, but the love he shared
will be with me until I join him one day. I just wish everyone could have known
this boy with the heart of gold. He died too young, but his love will linger in
the hearts and minds of all who were touched by his crooked smile and saying of,
"aw, it'll be alright." Aron's Tribute: I wrote on January 21, 2002 (Revised January 28, 2002)
Aron,
Angel at 15 Kathy Wilson Poynter I remember sparkling
blue eyes fastened in a gaze Towards me and the
powers that amazed A sweet little boy you
thought I was queen Of all the magic
you’d ever seen. You knew I was there
when hunger called, I would pick you up
after a toddler fall. As you grew into such a
smart, talented child, You were little bit
peaceful, a little bit wild. With your tender heart
of a boy of eight, Thru loving eyes, saw me
as great. As you grew into a
vibrant young man Who knew all the
answers and dared to plan To take on the unknown, because you were brave Cuz you said I
showed you the way. I wish I had another
minute to caress and hold Your hand, your heart,
and touch your hair of gold. I know you entered
eternity in your own style, Still, I miss your
crooked and glowing smile. A wink, a nudge, a
gleam in the eye And giggling little
gals as you walk by. I’ll see you one day
I know, But it hurts so much to
let you go. I promise to think of
you each day with joy Goodbye, A-rab, my son, my Ron, my boy.
ã 2002 Kathy Wilson Poynter
Aron Derrick Poynter Rest in Peace April 20, 1986-January 14, 2002
On June 6 1999: I lost my sister in law Judy Ann Damrell Poynter Adams, she left us on June 6 in a car wreck. I wish I could have a place to I could go to, so I can have a memorial for the loved ones I've lost. The list gets longer the older I get. That probably sounds like a "duh" statement, but it's not. I would like to tell you a little about her. She was 44, and had six children, Jason, Rod, John D., Brandy, Brian and Aron. Her first husband Warren, "Razz" Poynter preceded her in death. Judy was the type of person who didn't judge others. She let people prove themselves. She had a great heart and would help anyone. She had problems with people abusing her good nature but that is something they have to live with now. She liked the simple things in life and appreciated flowers and sunshine and God's glorious gifts. Judy's sense of humor was rowdy and she loved good jokes. She hated when people put others down. One of her boldest statements was about people: "We're not dogs, and should never be treated like we are." Which, in Judy's life, even dogs were important. She believed in the good in this world and endured some of the bad. She dealt with it in her own way, which was not involving others in her problems. She is a wonderful soul and I hope she has found peace. I will miss you Judy. I never said I love you straight out, but you know I cared because I did say that straight out. Saying I love you is hard. Still is. So, I hope you have flowers and sunshine, a bubbling brook and were greeted by the ones you loved. Rest easy fair one, you earned it. On April 27th 1996 I lost my father-in-law: Warren V. Poynter Sr.Warren was a very special man. A man that had good words for all. I wrote this about Warren: Papaw’s
Pride
By
Kathy Wilson Poynter Colored
with beautiful sprays of red, blue and green, flowers of love commemorated the
cemetery. Fragrant scents of lilac or honeysuckle, wafted in the air. The
greenery grew along fencerows and highlighted in the spring: the sweetness of
new life, and in the fall: the poignant heartache of death. Silent tears flowed
daily in the tombstone garden. Etched
in stone, life is represented with a dash. Bornliveddied.
The dash signified a lifetime, but simply was not enough to describe the time
of life. Warren
Poynter’s dash does not describe his life’s story, his gift to the world.
This is but one story of his compassion, love and zest for life. He was a man
rich with history, and he flavored the lives of his grandchildren with seasoned
tales of their parents past. Warren’s lessons to his grandchildren were filled
with understanding, and he taught them about dignity. They learned from his
example, and he reflected the values he thought they should know. He took great
pride in his grandbabies, and he really liked sharing the exploits of his
children to their children. Of Doug,
his sixth child, this story was most famous: Doug
traveled with Warren to a busy, crowded livestock sale. The sales were held
every Tuesday in Lancaster, Ky. and several farmers attended. Auctioned to the
highest bidder, hundreds of cattle, pigs, sheep, goats, and horses were bought
and sold. The animals were kept in pens adjacent to the auction ring, and
animals were transferred closer until they sold, and then they were taken to
holding pens behind the sales ring. Often
Warren arrived early to view and decide which animals he wanted to purchase.
Afterward, he took a seat and waited for the animals he was interested in
appear. Doug did not sit with his dad that particular day. Instead, he climbed
to a place where trouble gleefully awaited. Doug
said he sat in the bleachers a few seats behind and above his dad. He munched on
a bag of popcorn. A man offered Doug a quarter to blow up the sack and pop it.
Doug did just that and with the loud bang, the auctioneer’s chant and
the whole sales stopped. Quiet fell like a shroud, and all eyes turn to the
wide-eyed boy. Warren turned abruptly, the men roared with laughter, and Warren
shook his finger at Doug. A few minutes later the laughter died down, and Doug
started breathing normal again. He forgot about the quarter. He tried
to shake off the embarrassment and walked up to the top of the bleachers and
then over to another set of stairs. The stairs led down to the holding pens
outside the arena. There Doug saw a healthy 3 or 4 hundred pound black calf
standing at the bottom. Doug turned to go back to watch the sale. He stood on
the top step, and in the center aisle. Those steps led straight into the ring,
the sales part of the arena, surrounded by the bleachers where all the men sat.
The black calf followed Doug, passed him, and ran into the arena’s center.
Doug couldn’t believe it. Shocked, the auctioneer stopped mid-chant and called
out, “Now boys, he’s brought a calf in the back way!” The arena boomed with laughter. Warren slowly turned his head
knowing what he was going to see, and looked at Doug. He just shook his head. Doug
told the story years later to his twin sons. He said he didn’t have anything
to do with bringing the calf up to the top of the arena. But he encouraged them
to ask Papaw what happened. When they did, Warren was sitting at the kitchen
table. He pushed his chair back, thumped his cane in exaggerated anger and
declared that he was going to tell the story, but it would be the last time he
told it. Warren told fourteen
year-old Douglas and Darin what really happened. He said his story and
Doug’s were daylight and dark apart. Neither agreed with what happened.
Douglas and Darin listened quietly to Warren’s version of the incident. “I was
sitting and watching the sales when this tremendous BOOM sounded. I jumped and
looked up and there sat Doug, as guilty as he could be. He had thrown an M-80
into the crowd.” An M-80 is a very large firecracker. “Every man in
the building jumped. They looked toward Doug, then at me, and laughed. I pointed
my finger at Doug to let him know I knew what he had done.” The
episode did not end there. Warren recalled it got a lot worse. “I
tried to forget what happened and turned to watch the sale continue. The next
thing I knew, there was Doug. He tugged and pulled on one of the scrawniest,
flea bitten carcasses of a calf I’ve ever seen. He pulled it by the ear down
from the top of the bleachers. I looked at him and when the men noticed the
ruckus they laughed so loud it felt like it shook the building. Doug looked at
me, and I looked at the auctioneer and I ended up having to buy the calf, and we
took it home. The calf never looked good enough to resell, it couldn’t gain
weight, and it lived to a ripe old age.” The
whole time Warren told the story, he animated his face to show how he felt at
the time. When Doug’s sons asked what he did to their dad afterwards. Warren
said he realized that Doug was learning and the whole thing taught him well,
because they had spent several other peaceful times at the stockyard. Warren
was that patient. He listened to people and taught the art of listening, and it
is an art, to his grandchildren. He was the very embodiment of what a
grandfather should be. Two days after telling his part of Doug’s story he
died. The date was April 27th, twenty-six days after watching his
Kentucky Wildcats with the 1996 NCAA Basketball Championship. He died
at a place he called the tunnel. It was located on a mountaintop he cherished
and went to almost everyday of his life until the last year he lived. Illness
prevented his journey. He had been very sick, he suffered tremendous headaches,
but he never let anyone know he was in pain. The last two weeks of his life were
better for him that even he had expected. Those two weeks were days when he
could smell spring’s fresh air, watch the dogwoods bloom, and touch the soil
that held the essence of his life. Warren was an outdoorsman with a tender
heart. He fed
squirrels just outside his bedroom door, and on his last day, he bought some
peppermint sticks for the deer on the tunnel. Nothing was going to stop him from
getting back up there. Earlier in the day he had prepared some meat and
accidentally cut his thumb to the bone. As much as everyone pleaded for him to
see the doctor and get stitches, Warren was determined he would not go. He had
finally gotten much better and he once again lived life like he wanted to. He was
with his fishing buddy. As they dropped the candy near salt blocks, Warren told
his friend he needed to stop for a minute. A warm sprinkling rain fell as he
walked to the side of the road. Moments later, he asked for something to rest
his head on. His friend urged him to get help. “No,” Warren replied.
“Everything will be okay.” Seconds later he left the bonds of earth, and
joined his first borne son Warren, Jr., who had gone on before. Warren’s
wife of 47 years, Nora Dees Poynter gently touched his face and her tears
flowed. Heart broken and unsure of what to do next she cradled his head, and
whispered, “Warren honey, I love you.” Each
of his children Jo Ann, Betty, Tom, Wendell, Doug, Fran, Jan, and Kevin, and
their families came to the scene. The grief astounded them all, and their hearts
thundered in sorrow. Never had something hurt so bad that they thought they
could not get through it. How could life exist without him? How could they
possibly go on? Yet,
right above his body there was a sight so beautiful it eased their pain.
An inverted rainbow shined colorfully down on Warren’s peaceful face.
As each noticed and pointed to the sky, they watched in stunned wonder. Their
heads nodded too, because if Warren could have lessoned their pain with the
remarkable sight, that was exactly what he would have done. Its colors
brilliantly defined the purity of his love and its presence helped their grief
become a little more bearable. Many neighbors saw the wondrous rainbow but few
knew its legacy. The
community felt Warren’s loss too, and they never had an ill word to say about
him. Visitation at the funeral home was non-stop. People came from miles around
to pay their respects. They told comforting stories the family needed to hear.
His funeral at the community Baptist church, and it overflowed with people.
People waited in line for hours to offer a kind word or a comforting hug. After
the funeral Warren’s sons and sons-in-law were to carry him from the church to
the hearse. The grandchildren waited together and watched as he was carried out.
Warren’s sons sensed the need to hold him again, and each man stepped back to
let the grandchildren carry their Papaw. With the love and warmth matching the
love he gave, they slowly and determinedly placed his body inside the waiting
vehicle. They
walked behind the hearse to the cemetery where Warren would be buried. It was a
short walk from the cemetery, about a quarter of a mile away. At the graveyard
the preacher offered last prayers and the funeral director watched along with
the parents as Warren’s grandchildren gathered around his body. The surrounded
Papaw in a tight circle and stood proud and tall. Warren was presented with the
same love, honor and respect that he had given each of them. Every grandchild
placed his or her hand on his coffin and from the outside of the circle no part
of it could be seen. “Papaw,
you will never be forgotten, but we hate to let you go,” they said, and
shaking with pain they lowered his body. Our children looked so strong when they
surrounded their Papaw. Through it all, their grace and poise demonstrated and carried out their rite of passage. Warren would have been so happy and proud of them. Each of them made up Papaw’s pride, and through them his legacy was carried forth into the world. They possesse a light so bright it is difficult to describe, except to say, today Warren’s legacy is stronger than ever. His cherished memories live on, because his stories now ours, are passed on to our children with the same pride he passed to us. One day they will be a Papaw or Mamaw and their pride will be given to their grandbabies. Their world will be a better place because of it. On June 14, 1994 I lost my brother-in-law Warren " Razz" V. Poynter Jr. Razz was the type of fellow who loved a good time. He had been injured on January 9, 1990 when a dead limb fell from a tree he and my husband were cutting. He was married to Judy Damrell Poynter Adams and together they had six children, Jason, Rodney, John D., Brandy, Brian, and Aron. He will not be forgotten.
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