Robert Vernon Garner Jr. passed away on December 26, 2019, in the 84th year of his life. Bob’s illustrious career in aviation began in 1957, after joining the Navy Reserve and studying aircraft mechanics at Boston University, when he was commissioned a Naval Aviator and Officer and assigned to VP8. He was a commercial aviation pilot for Pan American World Airways, and continued flying as a “weekend warrior” in the Naval Reserve. Upon hearing of an opportunity for helicopter training in the Army, he enlisted, trained to fly helicopters, and joined the Rhode Island Air National Guard. In 1988 he resigned from his military service and retired from Pan Am, spending his time here on Sunset Hill with his family. Our condolences to his wife, Betty, of 59 years, his sons Robert, David, and Henry Garner and his wife Michelle, his daughter Anne Curry and her husband, Thomas, his grandson Brewster Curry and his wife Julia and their children, Rudolf and Thomas, and his granddaughters, Alison Curry and Greta Garner, who shares her loving eulogy with us.
Dear O’Papa,
As I look back, there are many memories I can recall that I will forever tuck safe inside my soul. Like when you, me, and O’Mama made tons of lemonade all summer, or when you took me for bike rides, or when we played checkers, or when we talked – especially when we talked. We talked to each other lots of places, but my favorite place was when I came to Sunset Hill early in the morning with my dad and you were the only one awake, downstairs in the kitchen, and we would talk to each other. We would talk to each other about anything in the world – events in our lives or things on our mind which untwined itself into long conversations, branching out into exchanges lasting hours on end while we waited for O’Mama to come down or Anne to arrive. Always, you were a house, especially in those conversations. You were a house; a safe, nurturing house where I could let out anything weighing me down.
You were a house of wisdom. You have taught me countless things. You taught me that my emotions were valid and you always made me feel special. You let me pour my tears out onto you and you always wanted to help me feel better. You taught me that I was important and you taught me self-value. You even took me to Munson’s when I was crying once because you know that rich chocolate helps heal the wounds. You taught me all about the future. You taught me what it means to fall in love. You rooted joy into every situation; driving to school, leaving school, or even riding a panicking pony galloping away with me. You found ways to make everything fun, whether that was singing “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” or cracking up over the littlest things or entertaining me with memories from your life. By being yourself, you brought the sunshine into any situation. Many people know you by the mischievous twinkle in your eye and your sense of humor. I remember the time in second or third grade when you were dropping me off at school and I was crying because I didn’t want you to leave. I hadn’t cried getting dropped off in years! That tells you something.
You were strong in every single way. The most obvious ways are in your career, that you were in the Army, that you climbed up into the hayloft and drove your tractor and rode your bike all around town into your 80’s – but you were also strong in your unwavering faith, your unbeatable bravery, and your determination throughout all the hard places in your life. I saw this power inside you most clearly when you broke your neck and your ribs and God knows what else, and you stood up and fought and tried again and didn’t let your failures knock you down and you recovered. You lived life to the very fullest. You made it rich and you created the colors that made it so beautiful. At the end of your time here, when you were fighting against your cancer, you were so strong – even if you were too tired to carry on. You didn’t tell us how much you were hurting because you cared so deeply about us. You didn’t want us to worry – and although we may have wished you would have told us, your actions radiate a special kind of strength.
You were always so kind, so generous, and so thoughtful. You put an incredible effort into being the best father, husband, and grandfather you could be. You are the best grandpa in the whole wide world to me and you always will be. Although you had a tough and resilient shell, the rawness found deep inside your heart was what made you such a wonderful person. Animal movies and beautiful songs made you cry. I remember when you read a card you wrote to O’Mama and you told her that she was your best friend and it sent tears streaming down your face; and I knew from then on that when you said or felt something important that you truly meant, it was easy to tell from how it pulled on your heartstrings. You felt such tenderness and understanding for others who were hurting and you included everyone; welcomed everyone into your life like they should consider themselves one of the family.
I miss you. I miss your hugs. I see you in the stars that light up the sky at night, I see you in the sunsets on your homeland, I see you in the deep blue sky that you have flown through in many an airplane at the tippity top of the world. I think of you often – but now I know that you’re always safe, always at peace and living in eternal glory with the Lord. You’re always watching over us and looking after us just like you did here on earth. One of the last things that I told you is that this isn’t goodbye forever – that I would see you again one day and to you it wouldn’t seem like a very long time that we’re gone. I’m going to strive to be the best person I can be, just like you did, so that I can be with you again one day.
I love you.
Greta