Stories: Who We Have Lost

"WHITECLOUD" Loving Son, Husband, Father and Friend

Who did you lose to Covid 19? Donald Earl Wyatt

My husband, Earl, died during the COVID19 PANDEMIC on June 4, 2020 at the hospital. (he did not have the covid virus) We got the call to come to the hospital but the nurse met us at the door and told us he was gone. The days that followed where sad and long. So much to do and no one to come home to. The following is a post our son,Micah, posted on fb when he returned to our home the morning his Papa passed.: Micah Wyatt June 5, 2020 at 4:22 PM · Shared with Public – I have wrestled with the idea of sharing this publicly cause my father was a private man, and the current viral context makes a difficult situation even more problematic- and the difficulties only increase as numbers grow. Yet, I didn’t want to deprive anyone of the opportunity to honor my father and grieve alongside those who also loved him. So, it is with a heavy heart made strong by the courage and strength my father modeled that I must inform the world my Donald Earl, known as, “Whitecloud” to those who knew him in youth due to his bright blonde hair, went to sleep last night and became one with the thunder. Dad had suffered in ways few could ever imagined because he never burdened others with his problems of body and spirit. So, while it is sad he is no longer here there is also comfort, cause he is released from the pains of his flesh. My father was my first friend and always my best. Funny, kind, and generous to a flaw, he was also brave, powerful, and no one to trifle with or disrespect. The calm and quite clouds would part, shot guns would rise, and the danger or disrespect would be dealt with. Yet, he was never unreasonable or unfair with his anger the entire time I knew him. Further, dad could flat kick your ass at Rook. Even after everyone at the table had six packs each he could still recall exactly what card had played and who played it. My father was a warrior, both literally and metaphorically. He served our country during the Vietnam era. He was an artillery gunner, and a damn good one. His gunnery squad were taken to West Point Military Academy to train the artillery infantry there. Dad supposedly never saw action, but I also know he had a top secret clearance at one point so what he really did remains an unknown. He shared what he was comfortable with, and the rest I never asked about. There is no doubt this world has had its level of kindness and generosity reduced today, but with an indomitable will and keen mind I will strive to double my efforts to help that level to not fall as far as it might so as to honor my father’s legacy. In his last years papa spent much of his time at his desk watching multitudes of birds come to the feeder hanging from the window before which he was seated. As I had done with grandma and grandpa Wyatt as a child, dad would quietly identify and witness various feathered friends as they ate, sang, and scuffled amongst each other. When I arrived home from the hospital after seeing my father off on one of his final journeys it was about 5:45am. As I got out of the car songs from hundreds of birds filled the air, and I wondered with a transcendent smile, “How many of these did papa feed?” Every morning the numerous birds on our mountain greet the sun with their voices. I do not know the winged choirs were for my father, but I also do not know they were not. love Micah
It will soon be a year since we lost him. My heart is still broken, the tears still fall. The hill will never be same without him. Love Always and Forever, Rosemary

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