Last week Emrys Davies, an old friend and client of my Dad’s, passed away at the age of 86. Mr. Davies took me shopping the day before Tim’s funeral so we could buy a light blue track/warm up suit for him to be buried in. Before Tim was abducted he had been saving money from his newspaper route to buy the suit and he and my Mom had planned to go out shopping for one. Light blue was a big color that year (just check out the tuxes in any prom photos you might have from that era).
I didn’t know Mr. Davies well, but we went shopping for a few hours hunting for an elusive light blue warm up suit in a size small enough to fit Tim, who was 4’1” and 60 pounds. Mr. Davies was younger then than I am now. He was totally cool and very kind. Trust me, in these types of situations the last person an adult wants to be around is a teenager. The “what do I say?!” problem gets magnified 100-fold.
I’ve written about this shopping trip before. We went to a bunch of stores and could not find a light blue tracksuit. There weren’t a bunch of sporting goods stores like there are today. At one store we could only find a darker blue tracksuit that was a size or two too big. The sales woman suggested it still might work because it would allow for growing room. We both dealt with that as best we could. We later found a dark blue tracksuit in his size and brought it home. We had done the best we could.
I would learn the next morning before the funeral that Mr. Davies keep searching for and in fact found a light blue tracksuit in Tim’s size and dropped it off at the funeral home.
I hope I thanked Mr. Davies for taking me shopping that day, but I don’t know that I ever got to thank him for keeping up the search until he found the light blue tracksuit. Thank you for this great kindness, Mr. Davies. We all appreciated it so much. I can tell from your obituary that you were loved and respected. Rest in peace.