Heroes cease to exist in two ways, either through disappointment or death. If you are lucky, the later is the case.

My childhood hero just took his last breath.

As I sit here with tears streaming down my cheeks, I hope that I can eloquently articulate my feelings.

If you are lucky enough to know my uncle Jerry Bott, then you have the privilege of knowing the best person I have ever met. There is no better example of loyalty, charity and love than he was.

I grew up right across the streets from him. Our gray house faced his small white house. For my entire life growing up, I would see Jerry at least two times every day.

I owe my very life to my uncle Jerry. Once, as a curious 5 year old, I was standing in the doorway to his kitchen. Jerry had a bag of those pink chalky wintergreen disc candies. I placed one in my mouth, and somehow got it lodged inside my trachea. Jerry must have sensed my panic, but he calmly walked over and gave a firm push on my stomach and the piece of candy shot across the room.

There is no one more patient than my uncle Jerry. It would be impossible to be so. I remember every day growing up, Jerry dropping everything he was doing, even if it was sleeping following a graveyard shift, to give my little brother Seth a tractor ride down the street. I know that many days he didn’t want to do it, but he never complained a single time. He was grateful for the time to spend with Seth.

I remember my younger brother Seth having a severe seizure as a child. He was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. I was beside myself. Uncle Jerry came over and silently sat in a recliner next to me for the entire night. After an hour or so, he looked at me and said, “don’t worry Isaac, Seth is going to be ok.” He was right. Although it was a very long night, he sat there the entire time.

Years later, after a cousin of mine was killed in a car crash, we were standing at the grave side. I watched Jerry walk over and give my uncle a hug. Jerry began to sob. I could literally feel the love he had for my cousin and my uncle’s family.

While in high school, I did not know what direction I needed to go in life. Jerry one day, quietly predicted that I would become a veterinarian. I remember thinking that notion was crazy! But, as always, he was right.

In high school, following my first heartbreak, I remember sitting in his kitchen crying as I recounted what had happened. Jerry calmly looked at me and told me it would be ok. He was right, everything did turn out ok, but it was his words of comfort that calmed my troubled soul.

The corrals below Jerry’s house become filled with manure in the winter. It is at least knee deep by February. I remember one year standing in this disgusting green pool of filth with a scoop shovel. The task seemed insurmountable, the stench seemed inconceivable, and my will power seemed inaccessible. Jerry came down, calmly entered the coral and began scooping the green filth into the wagon. He looked at me and said, “Isaac, thanks for letting me help. This is one of my favorite things to do.” Now clearly, he was bluffing, but his optimism turned this job that I absolutely despised into something tolerable. Jerry was the hardest worker I have ever met.

My generous nature is because of what I learned from my sweet uncle Jerry. Over the years he has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars helping other people. He would quietly go to the grocery store and take groceries to those who needed them. He never wanted any credit for the thousands of acts of service he provided to the fortunate residents of Castle Dale, but each of us that he served are much better people because of his love.

Jerry would use his gloves until they fell apart. Holes in the fingers were fixed with duct tape. Socks that would not stay up were held in place with rubber bands. He would sew the holes in his socks where his toe would eventually wear through. He was the absolute example of personal frugality, yet he would give so much to all those around him. Watching his generosity was inspiring, but watching him go without taught me what true sacrifice is.

Jerry would sit for hours, listening to me tell him about veterinary school. I would share my triumphs and failures. He would attentively listen, and make me feel as if nothing mattered more in that moment than I did. It must have been so boring for him to have to listen to me go on and on, but he never showed it. He picked me back up when I fell down, he consoled me when I was heart broke. There are dozens of times that he comforted me and took my pain away.

I literally could write a book on all of my memories of uncle Jerry. He has been like a second father to each one of my siblings and I. We are so lucky to have had the chance to spend so much time with him.

Every hundred or so years, God smiles and sends one of his noble and great ones to earth. These individuals lift all those around them, and share the love of the Master Himself. Jerry was indeed one of those noble souls. Today, he was called back home by that Maker who gave him life.

There is one less cowboy in Castle Dale, and a saddle that is empty today, but there is a grand reunion up in heaven as he is welcomed home by loved ones.

I love you Jerry. Thank you for believing in me before I believed in myself. Thank you for teaching me to love, and give and serve. Your influence will forever remain in my heart.