Being patient is not a virtue I do well, but I always stood there anyway, looking out across the golf course, holding slices of apples in my hands, waiting and hoping that any minute they would show up so I could get back to work. Finally, I heard the pounding of horses hooves, then a big brown and black dog would come charging around the pond. Ozzie first, then Chuck, riding Buddy at full speed, blowing that danged whistle, telling Ozzie to "go get Patti." Every day we did this and everyday I watched them ride off, Chuck always yelling back that they would not be gone long. Maybe three or four hours. I'd watch until they were out of sight. They didn't hurry. There was no need. No set plan on which direction they would take. To avoid losing another argument, Chuck usually went the way Buddy wanted to go. Ozzie, usually sneaking off to visit his friends.

Chuck always looked so proud and eager to be on his way. Had I counted them, the number would have been three. That would have been wrong. Knowing them as I did, the right number would have been one. Love for each other made them a whole, this man, his horse, and dog.

Life on Brays Island was good for Chuck. Surrounded by the sounds of silence, sometimes not even knowing or caring where he was going, he rode the hunt fields and woods. All of his troubles forgotten. He would pause only to brush away a spider from his face that made its web across trhe trail. Since he could not see good, this made him very nervous. Buddy walking into an electric fence woke him up a few times also. Sometimes he'd tell me about just stopping to listen to the call of a water bird out in the marshes.

He never feared getting lost. He knew the people of Brays looked out for him. If they saw Ozzie without Chuck, they worried a little. If they saw Ozzie and Buddy without Chuck, they called security.

Some knew him only as the man in the golf cart, with his dog. Security knew him as the man and golf cart they were always pulling out of the mud. He had a knack for getting stuck in the worst places. Ask Michelle and Gay. Everyone spoke to him as he went by. He couldn't see their faces, but knew their voices. He would be embarrassed because the face was not the right face. The horses were no problem. He knew every one of them.

His rides became shorter, and all too soon they ended. Those of us that have watched him through the years, admired his strength, and secretly wished we could be him, will miss him the nost. He enjoyed his time outside with nature. When he could no longer be outside, he formed "the breakfast club." He really loved having everyone over for sweet potato pancakes, and Mr Eatons real maple syrup. He wanted the whole plantation to get there before he passed away.

His friends became a treasure. Watching golf with Bill, football with Ken, and Janie who kept him supplied with brownies, but never would sit down and talk. The equestrian center was his heart. Jamie and his crews were always there to help "Capt. Chuck." Lyn and John who helped him get Zack. Clayton and Anne who brought me gifts when Chuck jokingly compalined that he paying for breakfast. Security who made us welcome coming in and going out of Brays. And dear Margie who held out her hand to him in friendship from the beginning of his time on Brays, and held on until the very end of his life.

You all have your memories and what is good about them is they fill that empty void between then, when we could share his life, and now when it's no longer possible. I thank you all for the fifteem years you gave Chuck and I. For excepting me, and now sharing this time of sadness with me.

As long as there is breath in my body, and every time these memories that I treasure surface, and with so many of them I am sure they will come to mind quite often, a hidden smie will steal its way across my face, a warm glow will touch my heart, and I will say a silent prayer of thanks. Thanks that I was given the chance to be a wonderful part of Chuck's life, and part of your lives on Brays Island.