It was Halloween day 1966. Clairie and I were playing marbles in the yard

behind our farm house. Daddy drove up on his tractor and walked up to the

house for supper. He'd spent the morning plowing under the dregs of the fall

harvest and Mamma was putting the finishing touches on our costumes.

"You two finish that game and come clean up for supper." We nodded okay.

The day was calm and warm, odd for October, which tended to be windy and

cold in our part of rural Saskatchewan.

Uncle Billy, Mamma's youngest brother, lived nearby on the original family

homestead. At six feet five inches tall he was like a giant to me. At six

years old, I was small for my age, and my head reached just above his

kneecap. He never had a family of his own. Mamma said he was too shy to even

say hi to a girl. He loved Clairie and me like we were his own. He always

brought us little gifts or candy when he'd come by and we looked forward to

his visits.

On the flat of the prairies, sound travels for miles, so when I heard him

whistling Amazing Grace, which he always did as he walked to our farm, I

told Clairie I was going to meet him.

I ran around the house, and there he was standing at the end of our laneway.

"Uncle Billy," I yelled.

I ran to take a running leap into his arms but he put his hands up and I put

on the brakes.

"Not today big guy, I hurt my back. Tell your Mamma I'm sorry I can't stop

in. I need you to do me a favor."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out three items, his bowie knife, a

wooden horse he'd carved for Clairie and a box with a ribbon around it for

Mamma. He handed the items to me and looked up at the house.

"Look after that knife for me would you?"  

He gave me a wink and turned to walk back to his place. I was excited about

the gifts and made for the house to show them off.  

The smell of supper hung in the air as I opened the mud room door.

I could hear Mamma crying and in the kitchen. I tiptoed in and laid the

gifts on the table.

"Uncle Billy was just here and he said to say sorry he couldn't come in. He

sent you this Mamma." I handed her the box with the ribbon around it. My

mother made a noise that haunts me to this day.

I remember my father's astonished look as he asked when I'd seen Billy.

As I told my story, Mamma slumped to the floor in a faint as Daddy's words told

me that Uncle Billy had died that morning.