Thursday, March 21, 2013

A Tragic Loss For Our Family

Harold Delmont Clark

It is appropriate that the first post for The Clark and Davis Families is about the only grandparent I never knew, because the death of HAROLD D CLARK put his descendants on a path very much different than if he had lived. Harold died when he was only 22 years old, leaving his wife, two sons, and a sparse genealogical trail. My father, ROBERT GENE CLARK, was two years old when his father died; my uncle Ronnie was 4 years old. Unfortunately, my father did not have a close relationship with the Clark family, and except for his aunt Hildred Clark, Harold's oldest sister, I never knew anything about Harold's family. The only time I ever heard my grandmother, PHYLLIS BERTHA DAVIS, speak about her husband may have been in response to one of my questions. She told me that when Harold died, his last words were, "It hurts, Phyl, it hurts." Or perhaps those were the last words of one of her two little brothers when they died.

There will be a future post about my father's mother. Her story is extraordinary; it begins with loss, is filled with loss, and ends with loss. Her life was molded, if not defined, by the multitude of losses in her life. The death of her husband of 5 years was another tally mark of loss added to the ones she had already experienced by age 25, but certainly not the last.

Harold was born in Smithfield, Somerset, Maine, the second child and first son of PERLEY HOWARD CLARK (1886-1970) and IRENE MARIE LOUCKS (1888-1967).

I am so grateful for the photos I have seen of Harold. He is quite handsome, and immortalized in the few existing photos, he is perpetually happy. He has a open, intelligent look, and in most of the photos it looks as if it would have been easy to make him laugh. He also looks very much like his son, Robert.

Harold (son of Perley and Irene Lawrence Clark); Lawrence (1918-? son of Jay and Alice Clark); Frederick (Harold's younger brother 1916-1952); Archie (son of Arthur Clark 1909-1994)
I wish I knew more about my grandfather. Even more, I wish I had known him.

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