My brother, David

My brother, David Ray Joyce, was four years older than me. He was a very handsome red-headed young man and lots of people called him “Red”. I didn’t. He was always David to me.

David graduated from Boling High School in May of 1959. He was a pretty good athlete and had been the quarterback on the football team. He was a leader. He had been president of the student body his senior year. He was respected and lots of younger kids looked up to him. He had followed in his brothers’ footsteps and raised and shown prize winning steers at the Houston Fat Stock Show. He was smart. He had made good grades in school and he had been accepted into Texas A&M for the upcoming fall semester. David had not quite decided what he would major in. For years he had wanted to be a veterinarian, but during the last part of his senior year, he believed that God was leading him to go into the ministry and was considering seminary after he finished college or maybe even changing plans and going to a small Christian college. He was really growing in the Lord. David was in love. He was engaged to marry Polly, a beautiful red haired girl from Wharton.

David was my hero. Unlike my other brothers, at times he was in the same school as I was. We were closer in age and I knew him better. I was so proud to be his little sister. He didn’t tease me unmercifully like my other brothers did. He protected me as a brother should. I wasn’t really looking forward to him going off to college and getting married. I would be going into the 9th grade and I wouldn’t have him at the high school to watch over me. But he was growing up and I knew he had to leave.

As soon as he graduated, he enrolled in summer classes at Wharton County Junior College, about 10 miles down the road. Every week day morning, he and two other guys and two girls carpooled to Wharton. They took a couple of morning classes and then headed back home before noon. David had a black and white ’55 chevrolet and on the morning of July 1, 1959, he was driving.

Mom and I were in the kitchen cooking a big lunch using our fresh vegetables just picked from our summer garden. We always cooked a big lunch (back then we called the noon meal dinner and the night meal supper). David should be home any minute. The table was set. We were getting the meatloaf and baked beans out of the oven and putting the food on the table. I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were scurrying around in that hot kitchen anticipating David’s arrival from school. Daddy walked in unexpectedly and told us that David had been killed in a horrible car wreck.

The next few hours and days are kind of a blur to me. We heard the details of the wreck. David was driving, one of the guys was in the front with him and the other boy and the girls were in the back seat. As they approached Burr, a very small community between Wharton and Iago, a young man, whose driver’s license had been suspended for drunk driving, came speeding across the railroad track and didn’t stop. He hit them broadside and pushed them into a beer truck that was meeting them. David died instantly. The other boys died, too and the girls were seriously injured, but survived.

Iago, Boling and Newgulf…..very small towns. Everybody knew everybody. They had all been in the same high school. All smart, popular, young people going to college. Devastating to everybody who knew them and even people who heard about it, but didn’t know them.

Our house was flooded with people….relatives from out of town and out of state and it seemed like everybody we knew and even some people I had never seen. People from all over Wharton County and who knows where else. David’s funeral service was unbelievable. The little Iago Federated Church was packed…even people were in the Sunday School rooms. The church yard was overflowing…people standing everywhere and there were cars parked down the road for miles and miles. I have never, before or since, seen that many people in Iago, Texas.

I have the dozens of cards and notes that people sent to us and I have the personal things that were his that my mom still had when she died….his report cards, high school yearbooks, pictures, and his favorite book that he got when he was a toddler, ‘The Littlest Angel”, given to him by our brother, Bub. I even have the envelope from the funeral home, marked “Joyce personal affects”…..the things that were on David’s body that last day of his life here on earth……his pocket knife, his Boling High School ring, four nickels and one penny and his wallet. In his wallet are several pictures of Polly, David showing a steer in our front yard, a picture of our brother, Bub, David’s social security card, the receipt for the diamond engagement ring bought at Sharman’s two months before that, some newspaper clippings, and other papers.

It’s been 50 years, this year….2009. And I still can’t write about this without shedding a
few tears. I’m sure I did ask “why” at the time, but I have never been angry at God about it. That day, as soon as I heard the devastating news, I went to my Protector, my Comforter, my Shield….my Heavenly Father and He took care of me. I was only 14 years old, but I already knew Him and I knew who was in control. Many times when things like this happen to people, they get angry with God and turn away from Him. God blessed me. Through this trial, He brought me closer to Him and I learned to trust Him even more. That’s when He became my best friend. At a very young age, I found out that others may leave you, at any time…we have no guarantee of how long we will have someone in our lives…..but God never leaves us.

We were all grieving. I don’t remember much about how we comforted and consoled each other. We weren’t a very intimate family….no hugs…no kisses. We were in shock. Devastated. I just know that I found my comfort and consolation in my Lord. At that very young age, I knew that God was there for me, if no one else was. There were so many people hurting, especially my mom and dad. They had suddenly and without warning lost their baby boy. Daddy had to identify him in that horrible state. That horrific wreck had left David’s body in such disarray….no daddy should ever have to witness such a scene. He never talked about it, to me. We didn’t talk about things like that, but I’m sure he was never able to forget it.

Things were never the same around our house. It took a toll on both my mom and dad. I’m not sure they ever got over it. I was not the same. I learned many things from
that terrible time in my life and many years later, some of those memories lingered and
influenced me in a huge way. I guess they still do. Because of the situation of that
wreck…a driver who shouldn’t have been driving because of alcohol…pushed my
brother’s car into a beer truck. He hit David’s car with such force that the imprint of his license plate was embedded in the passenger side door of David’s car. Get the picture? I hate drinking and driving and beer and drunkenness. Sorry, but for some reason, I just don’t like that! Some people don’t seem to understand why I don’t tolerate that very well, but then most people don’t know how that affected my life. When our teenage boys started driving and came home a little late, I panicked. Why? I know how quickly tragedies can occur and I know that no one is immune. It can happen to anybody at any time. I learned how to comfort someone when they experience the loss of a loved one. Words are not necessary. But hugs and prayers are. I learned how important community is. Living in a small community and going to a small church where everyone is close…..I experienced community at an early age. That’s something that many churches are stressing now and sometimes it seems that they think it’s something new. It’s not. I experienced community growing up and especially during that turbulent time in my life. The whole community suffered together.

I recall that in my room, alone, at night I talked to God and I talked to David…and that brought comfort to me. I think…no, I know that I grew up really fast when I was 14 years old.

The most important thing I learned from this experience was that I never wanted God to leave me…and he never will! How can people go through such heartache without Him? I was so blessed to have Him already in my life and there beside me, holding me and comforting me. I learned that with Him, I can do anything. I learned how very important it is to know when you lose a loved one that there is no doubt that they are in heaven immediately. There are theological disagreements about that, but not in my mind. David had a close relationship with the Lord and I knew where he was and where he is today. I learned how important it is to know the Lord at a very early age. David was just 18. I was just 14. But we knew Him! I learned that God’s plan for your life cannot be questioned. Of course, I missed David and still do. Many times I’ve wondered how my life would be different if that had not happened. I’ve wondered how much different our family would have been? Would it have been closer? I wish my sons and grandchildren could have known their Uncle David. I think they would have loved him. I’m so glad that my husband knew him and loved him. David would be 68 now. I just turned 64. I think we would have been close….much closer than I am to my other brothers. But I quickly turn from those thoughts and know that it was not in God’s plan for David to live to be an old man. Instead of becoming bitter when things like this happen, I think God wants us to learn and grow in Him. God wants us to trust and depend on Him. He wants us to use these experiences and trials to help others. He wants us to learn how to better serve Him.

I thank God for my brother David and I so look forward to seeing him one day soon.