William Lewis Davies, age 88 of Orlando, passed away at home in the loving arms of his wife Pat of 56 years on Saturday, October 2, 2010. Born January 3, 1922 in Scranton, PA. A member of Elks Lodge 1079, where he was a former Treasurer, Esquire, Loyal Knight and current Lecturing Knight. A WWII Army veteran, where he was awarded the Purple Heart for the Battle of the Bulge. A Past Commander of The Military Order of The Purple Heart and current Chaplain. He always had a good word to share with everyone. Survived by his wife, Pat; daughter, Sheryl Filippone; son, Wayne (Julie) Davies; sister, Jane (Jack) Bush; grandchildren, Joseph, Lindsay, Courtney and Russell; mother-in-law, Rachael Spinden; step brother-in-law, Robert (Helen) Spinden. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday, October 6, 2010 at 11:00 AM in the chapel of Carey Hand Colonial Funeral Home. Friends may visit from 10:30 AM until service time. There will be a reception held at the Elks Lodge 1079 at 1:00 PM. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Elks Lodge 1079 in his honor.
Eulogy for William Davies
by Wayne Davies
Who Was Bill Davies? He Was My Father.
1. My father was a brave Soldier.
He served in the Army and saw active duty in World War II in the Battle of the Bulge, for which he was awarded the Purple Heart. He rarely talked about the War -- too many painful memories. But I know that to be part of this war meant a lot to him, more than he could ever express in words.
And so it has always meant a lot to me that because he was willing to put his life on the line for the cause of freedom, he was part of what Tom Brokaw called "The Greatest Generation".
Thank you, Dad, for your bravery and your commitment to the preservation of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
2. My father was a sweet Singer of Song.
Most people don't know this about my father -- he could sing like an angel! My father was a soft-spoken, quiet man -- a man of few words. But he made up for that with his love of singing. And this is perhaps my sweetest boyhood memory of my father: I can still hear his sweet tenor voice resounding through the house, singing love songs from his generation, that Greatest Generation. He was raised on the Crooners -- Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Nat King Cole. This was the music I grew up listening to on the stereo at our house.
Most of all, though, I loved hearing his own voice.
Thank you, Dad, for being my favorite singer.
3. My father was a loving Spouse
How many men do you know who have been married only once . . .to the same woman . . . for 56 years? You can probably count them on one hand, or maybe on just one finger.
My father was a faithful, loving husband to the love of his life, my mother, Pat Davies.
I remember well how he lavished her with praise and tender loving care. In my entire life, I never once heard him make a single negative comment about my mother.
He praised her.
He complimented her.
He thanked her.
He loved her, through thick and thin, good times and bad, for better or for worse.
My father loved my mother, and that's how he taught me how to love my wife.
Thank you, Dad, for loving my mother with a love that never died.
4. My father was a humble Servant
My Dad was one of the hardest working men I've ever known. He worked tirelessly to provide a comfortable life for our family. We we never rich, but we were always well-clothed, well-fed and well taken care of materially. He served us like a slave by working hard every day at his job.
After he retired, he continued to serve others -- he served at the Elks Lodge and he served at the Military Order of the Purple Heart -- in many capacities and for many years.
He had a servant's heart -- how could he stop serving others?
And through all those years of service, he did it quietly, almost unnoticeably. And never once do I ever remember my Dad singing his own praises. He shunned recognition and the praise of man.
He didn't say much, but when he did, it stuck with me. I'll never forget the day he said to me, "Wayne, be humble . . . . and you'll be loved."
Thank you, Dad, for your example of humility.
In conclusion.....
Who was my father?
He was a man brave enough to challenge his own beliefs.
He was a man humble enough to admit when he was wrong.
And because of that bravery and humility, today he is a man who is singing sweet songs of praise with the angels of heaven, expressing His love for King Jesus while waiting for his wife and the rest of us to join him.
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The following is a eulogy written by Bill Davies for one of his fellow soldiers in the Military Order of the Purple Heart. Today we can honor Bill by reading this eulogy as if he wrote it for himself.
Bill Davies -- Warrior, Solder.
Do we know what a soldier really does? We see them in uniform with medals and ribbons.
If your child said, "Mommy, Daddy, what does a soldier do?"
Here are some thoughts:
It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, not the lawyer, who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the soldier, the one who salutes the flag, serves under the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.
Bill was the epitome of all that we are talking about.
In the early 1940's when the world was ruled by madmen whose sole purpose was to destroy everything and everybody, it was time for brave men to come forward and say "No, that shall not be."
Bill never hesitated, never missed a beat.
He dropped was he was doing, donned a uniform, grabbed a weapon and went to war.
After some basic training, he soon found himself thousands of miles from home in a strange land, the land of the enemy, whose only goal was to kill all Americans.
Here Bill was ready to lay down his life to preserve our freedom. And he almost did just that. Bill was wounded in combat. Fortunately he survived and was able to come back to all that was near and dear to him.
He went on to become a loving husband, a caring father and a stalwart citizen, with many accomplishments. Now he has reached the end of the trail and has gone to his eternal rest.
Whenever I think of eternity, I'm reminded of the young pupil who went to the wise old master and said, "Master, tell me about eternity. I understand a minute -- when my mother says "Johnny, come this very minute." I understand that. I understand days and hours . . . but an eternity . . . how long is that, Master?"
And the wise old master said, "Son, in the far off north there is a stone. It is one mile square. Once a year a huge bird soars out of the heavens and comes to rest on the stone. The bird has come to sharpen it's beak. When the bird has thusly worn away the stone, so passes a day in eternity."
When I was a child, death was a dark and foreboding experience. I was terrified by it, but as I grew older and matured I realized death is a triumph.
Bill has completed the cycle that was his destiny created at birth.
Think of death as a graduation. Bill has graduated to glory.
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One of Bill's favorite poems that he would read at funeral services of his fellow soldiers.
Author unknown.
Don't think of him as gone away --
his journey's just begun;
life holds so many facets,
this earth is only one.
Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.
Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched . . .
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.
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