My Grandpa Peterson passed away on February 24. As much as I am happy to know that he is finally out of pain, comfortable, and at peace, I will also miss him like crazy. My mom called on that Friday to tell me that he was slipping away. I packed in an hour, hoping to head out around 4:00ish the next morning and make it in time for him to meet Gabe and to hold his hand one last time (he used to hold my hand in both of his and never let go until I did). Sadly we didn't make it in time, but again, I'm so glad he didn't have to suffer through another night and it was very peaceful. So grandpa, here's to summers together in Boulder, horseshoes and shovels, whittling marshmallow sticks, popsicles on a hot summer's day, and some good old fashioned country music.
Bert Darwin Peterson
"Gone to Boulder"
Bert Darwin " Dar" Peterson, Beloved husband, father, grandpa, great-grandpa, brother, uncle and friend passed away peacefully with his family by his side February 24, 2012 in Spanish Fork, UT.
Darwin was born June 15, 1925 to Bertrand and Rosa Goulding Peterson in Boulder, UT, where he worked on the family ranch from a very young age. He grew up working on horseback in the high desert country that he loved.
He served proudly as a Marine Medic during World War II. He was on the first wave of Marines to invade Okinawa and fought in operation Iceberg.
Dar married his eternal sweetheart, Flora Robison, on July 5, 1949 in Salt Lake City. In 1955 they left Boulder and moved to Salt Lake City to raise their family. He was the best father ever to his son and two daughters.
Darwin was a man of integrity with a strong sense of right and wrong, and was a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was good-humored, affable, and always made people feel welcome and at ease. Some of his happiest times were spent returning to Boulder with his family. Dar was a special uncle to many nieces and nephews whom he dearly loved. He and Flora enjoyed camping with dear friends Norris and Barbara Lewis. He was excellent at whittling, could fix anything, and loved his country music.
He is survived by his wife Flora; daughter Debra Oldham (Allan); son Rod (Linda); daughter Michelle Sparks (David); grandchildren Corey, Justin (Helen), Emily (Marty), Dylan, Damon, Carter, Mikayle, Nicholas, Madison, Gabrielle; great-grandchildren Brynn, Bryce, Gabe; brother Garth (Lois).
Funeral services will be held Saturday, March 3 at 11:00 a.m. in Spanish Fork at the Aspen Meadows LDS Chapel, 1660 S. 1400 E. Friends may call Saturday morning at 9:30 a.m. Interment will be in Boulder Cemetery. To send the family a condolence visit www.LegacyFunerals.com
His family extends its deepest gratitude to neighbors Bud and Sandy Bittle for their kindness and support; everyone at Hearthstone Manor for their gentle care, compassion and love; and Marlene Oaks who far exceeded her duties as hospice nurse.
A Cowboy's burial
Memories of Grandpa:
*I went with him to see the Olympic torch pass. It was a freezing cold day and it was snowing. That day I was glad he was so affectionate. He kept me warm with his arm around me.
*Dylan, Damon and I made a little “Happy Anniversary” program one year for Grandma and Grandpa. I don’t remember exactly what we did, but we practiced hard and set up chairs for them when we were ready to perform it for them. I do remember at the end we fell into the kiddie pool behind us and thought it was hilarious. They clapped and clapped and told us how much they loved it. Since then I have always remembered their anniversary was the 5th of July.
*On that same trip to Boulder, a stray dog followed us home. We tried to lose it a couple of times, but it always followed us back to the house. Then one day we lost him somewhere around Pole’s Place. Grandpa bet us each a quarter the dog would come find us again before we left. Days later as we were packing the car to leave, we told Grandpa to pay up. Then JUST as we were pulling out, there came that mutt happily trotting back. We tried to give the quarters back to Grandpa, but he wouldn’t take them. It became a little game on the way home – we’d hide them somewhere for him and he’d always find them and give them back. I remember I didn’t want to spend that quarter.
*He’d always say, “You’re a beautiful girl, don’t let anyone ever tell you that you’re not.” You know, when you hear something enough times you start to believe it. Which is a pretty big achievement for an insecure middle-schooler with a pop-belly and headgear. Years later, I was being interviewed for a pageant and someone asked me, “Do you think you’re beautiful?” I told them about my grandpa and his constant reminders to me that I was beautiful. And I told them that it was because of him that I thought I could answer “yes” to that question. The interview was recorded, and one day when he was at my house, we played it for him. It was after his hearing had long gone and I wondered if he’d actually heard it. But when I looked over at him and saw tears streaming down his face, I knew that he had. Even still, I’m sure he had no idea how important his constant reminders were to me. He sure had a way of making each grand-kid feel special.
*He was so proud of me. I was so embarrassed when he’d pull out a picture of me from his wallet and show it to people right in front of me. I loved making him proud. He had a distinct smile he’d use when he talked about his grand-kids. When I was in college, I was privileged to be able to go to the World War II memorial in Washington DC with him. My favorite part about that was having the tables turn and being able to show him off to perfect strangers rather than the other way around. The Sparks girls and I absolutely mauled him. We all took turns holding his hands. I swelled with pride whenever someone came up and thanked him for his service to his country or asked to shake his hand. From then on, I haven’t been able to contain my pride whenever I tell someone about him.
***Miss you, Grandpa***
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