Dalton is the much loved son of Barbara Ruth Hammons and R. L. Davis. That he loved them back is a given. He was the greatest of big brothers to Melody, Kory and Charm. They were so important to him. He looked out for them and they made sure he was taken care of. The song, "He's Not Heavy, He's my brother" describes how they loved him. As children, they could run outside and play but they always made sure that on a cold windy day, their brother had a jacket on. One time, when Dalton was about 10, he had been ill and we took him into the doctor and got some medicine. The next morning, his 7 year old brother Kory, was groggy and bleary eyed. I ask him what was wrong with him and he replied that he had stayed awake all night to make sure Dalton kept breathing. Even though I had been in their room several times during the night, I never heard a peep out of him. Through the years, Kory kept watch over his brother. When they were grown, he came from work on breaks and lunch to do Dalt's postual drainage. He was on call for him 24/7. He never complained.
Dalton was the proud uncle of Brandon, Dane, Chance, Chelsea, Shea and Jessica. He loved them all. Sadly he never got to meet his nieces, Haley or Chadahn here on earth, nor the great nephews, Dylan, Ryder, Brody and Riley, Kahne and his sweet little great niece, Shelby, but I bet he gave them all a big hug and a kiss, before they left heaven. How he loved little children. How he would have loved them.
We are so proud and honored that God chose us to be Dalton's family. Our memories of him are so sweet. They will never be forgotten. What times we had together!
Dalt was the adored father of Cash Lee Dalton Davis L.T.D. (Dalt said he was a 'limited edition') His son was everything that kept him alive. He wanted to live long enough that Cash would have some memory of him. Cash was 9 years old when Dalt passed. He has since graduated from UC Davis in Sacramento, CA. with a double major in History and English.
Dalton died from a fibrous lung disease that he had all of his life. During the years of hospitals, lung surgeries and painful tests, he never lost his sense of humor. He told me, "When my body quits rejecting me, Mom, I'll get well." Whenever he met a young child with breathing problems, he immediately referred them to his own lung specialist in Sacramento. There are parents today who owe the health of their children to Dalton's concern.
While Dalt was in high school, we owned a fast food restaurant. One day, while I was cooking an order, I heard him at the front window teasing an old man about how thick his milk shake was. I thought, "Honey! That old man is going to come right through that window and tear your head off." Not so! Dalt stuck a straw in it, turned it upside down and ask, "Is this thick enough for you?" The shake and the straw stayed in the cup. From then on, no one could make a shake for that man but Dalt. If Dalt wasn't there, the old fella walked off. When my son heard the old man was ill and confined to bed, he went to his house every day and took him his thick shake. He would sit and talk for awhile too. This went on for a couple of weeks until the old man died. Dalton cried.
Like the Great Grandfather he never knew, Dalton was a 'horse trader' and he was darn good at it. He always got some 'boot' too. From his bed, on oxygen, with a trach in his throat, this child of ours amassed a 'stash' of $5,000.00 with his wheeling and dealing before he died. We often wondered what he could have done if he had been healthy.
Dalt was a wonderful dancer. Any dance he saw, he could do. He also had a very unusual laugh. It was sort of like Woody Woodpecker without running up the scale. After all these years, people still comment on it when they remember Dalt. It was a laugh you would know instantly as his.
He was also quite the mimic. His best impressions were, Stan Laurel of 'Laurel and Hardy' fame and his own invention of the 'poor little boy whose mother beats him'. He pulled that one on me in an elevator at UC Hospital in front of a bunch of doctors when he was 12. Before he got through I thought I was going to go to jail. But then, the elevator doors opened, Dalt straightened up and walked off laughing at me. We made a quick get away and I was laughing too while I threatened to beat him for real.
When Dalt was about 17 or so, my best friend Pam and her little girl Andrea were exposed to a rabid puppy and had to undergo very painful shots in the stomach. When it was apparent that they were going to be okay, Dalton, who loved Pam, would drive by their house and call out to her, "Hey, Pam. Have you been howling at the moon?" or "Hey Pam. Have you peed on any fire hydrants?" We laughed over that for years.
Since the age of 6, Dalt was an avid San Francisco 49er football fan. While in the hospital in San Francisco to have a lobe removed from his right lung, he could look down at Golden Gate Park and see Kezar Stadium, the old home of the '9ers. Since I grew up in San Francisco and my folks had had 49er season tickets since 1950, I told him about past players and how I used to freeze to death watching and cheering for them. He became a fan. Then, in the 80's, when they were winning and everyone seemed to be a fan, with a sly grin, Dalt ask me why everyone had new shirts and ours were old and faded. We chose a favorite 49er shirt to bury him in. We will suffer the day of Dalton's death until the day of our deaths.
Dalton grew up watching his Dad race dirt track at Triple M Speedway in Marysville, CA. When he was old enough he was probably the only driver to ever race with his tank of oxygen strapped into the race car beside him. Dalton was a good driver and was very competitive. He won some and he lost some and along the way really made a few guys upset to be beaten by a guy on oxygen. Others admired and respected him.
In January of 1989, several days before he died, Dalt told a friend he would die after the Super Bowl. He had once said to me, "There is quality and then there is quantity, Mom. When the quality is gone, I'm out of here.' On Jan. 22, a few hours after the game, I knew the 'quality' was gone. Dalton died at home, surrounded by a houseful of loved ones and good friends while a soft rain fell outside. Though unconscious, we like to think he knew his 49ers were the champions.
After Dalt's passing and at his request, a gift was delivered to his doctor who was a Cowboy fan. He and Dalt had a running verbal battle over which one was the best team. Without opening it, the doctor laughed and told us he didn't want that blankety blank 49er shirt. He was right...but he took the shirt. It was Dalt's last joke.
Dalt could talk with and joke with the young and old alike. He never knew a stranger and he never lost a friend. He could charm your socks off without untying your shoes. He was the laughter in our lives. During his lifetime, the family completely focused on him. Even after all this time, each of us misses him terribly.
Songs decided on with Dalton before his passing to be played at his funeral were 'Dust in the Wind';'Wind Beneath my Wings';'Forever' and Dalt's special request, 'Here I am, There I go, Turn the Page.'
We never knew, until now, that once upon a time, an angel walked beside us...and he still does. He is our son, father and brother...his name is Dalton Lee Davis.
There is no better friend than a brother and no brother quite like you....Love from Melody, Kory and Charm.
Go thou thy way and I go mine
Apart, yet not afar
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And God keep watch 'tween thee and me
This is my prayer
He looketh thy way
He looketh mine
And keeps us near.
I sigh sometimes to see thy face
But since this may not be,
I'll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
Love from Mama, Daddy, Melody, Kory and Charm.
'WEEL C 'YA'.
ONE MORE DAY
ONE MORE TIME
ONE MORE SUNSET,
MAYBE I'D BE SATISFIED
BUT THEN AGAIN
I KNOW WHAT IT WOULD DO..
LEAVE ME WISHING STILL,
FOR ONE MORE DAY WITH YOU....(Mama)
Angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.............(George Elliott)
IF YOU LOVE SOMEBODY ENOUGH
YOU CAN STILL HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER AFTER THEY ARE GONE!
(We still hear the sweet, funny sound of his laughter.)
Our family wishes to thank you for leaving Dalton flowers. If you have lost a loved one, you know how much it means to us.
'An Angel in the book of life, wrote down our dear sons birth and whispered as she closed the book, 'To beautiful for earth!' (author unknown)
Thanks to FAG for this wonderful site and to an angel named Sherri for sponsoring Dalt.
Please, if you have time, take a minute and visit Dalton's niece, JODI LYNNE SMITH. He loved her so much.
Dalton was the proud uncle of Brandon, Dane, Chance, Chelsea, Shea and Jessica. He loved them all. Sadly he never got to meet his nieces, Haley or Chadahn here on earth, nor the great nephews, Dylan, Ryder, Brody and Riley, Kahne and his sweet little great niece, Shelby, but I bet he gave them all a big hug and a kiss, before they left heaven. How he loved little children. How he would have loved them.
We are so proud and honored that God chose us to be Dalton's family. Our memories of him are so sweet. They will never be forgotten. What times we had together!
Dalt was the adored father of Cash Lee Dalton Davis L.T.D. (Dalt said he was a 'limited edition') His son was everything that kept him alive. He wanted to live long enough that Cash would have some memory of him. Cash was 9 years old when Dalt passed. He has since graduated from UC Davis in Sacramento, CA. with a double major in History and English.
Dalton died from a fibrous lung disease that he had all of his life. During the years of hospitals, lung surgeries and painful tests, he never lost his sense of humor. He told me, "When my body quits rejecting me, Mom, I'll get well." Whenever he met a young child with breathing problems, he immediately referred them to his own lung specialist in Sacramento. There are parents today who owe the health of their children to Dalton's concern.
While Dalt was in high school, we owned a fast food restaurant. One day, while I was cooking an order, I heard him at the front window teasing an old man about how thick his milk shake was. I thought, "Honey! That old man is going to come right through that window and tear your head off." Not so! Dalt stuck a straw in it, turned it upside down and ask, "Is this thick enough for you?" The shake and the straw stayed in the cup. From then on, no one could make a shake for that man but Dalt. If Dalt wasn't there, the old fella walked off. When my son heard the old man was ill and confined to bed, he went to his house every day and took him his thick shake. He would sit and talk for awhile too. This went on for a couple of weeks until the old man died. Dalton cried.
Like the Great Grandfather he never knew, Dalton was a 'horse trader' and he was darn good at it. He always got some 'boot' too. From his bed, on oxygen, with a trach in his throat, this child of ours amassed a 'stash' of $5,000.00 with his wheeling and dealing before he died. We often wondered what he could have done if he had been healthy.
Dalt was a wonderful dancer. Any dance he saw, he could do. He also had a very unusual laugh. It was sort of like Woody Woodpecker without running up the scale. After all these years, people still comment on it when they remember Dalt. It was a laugh you would know instantly as his.
He was also quite the mimic. His best impressions were, Stan Laurel of 'Laurel and Hardy' fame and his own invention of the 'poor little boy whose mother beats him'. He pulled that one on me in an elevator at UC Hospital in front of a bunch of doctors when he was 12. Before he got through I thought I was going to go to jail. But then, the elevator doors opened, Dalt straightened up and walked off laughing at me. We made a quick get away and I was laughing too while I threatened to beat him for real.
When Dalt was about 17 or so, my best friend Pam and her little girl Andrea were exposed to a rabid puppy and had to undergo very painful shots in the stomach. When it was apparent that they were going to be okay, Dalton, who loved Pam, would drive by their house and call out to her, "Hey, Pam. Have you been howling at the moon?" or "Hey Pam. Have you peed on any fire hydrants?" We laughed over that for years.
Since the age of 6, Dalt was an avid San Francisco 49er football fan. While in the hospital in San Francisco to have a lobe removed from his right lung, he could look down at Golden Gate Park and see Kezar Stadium, the old home of the '9ers. Since I grew up in San Francisco and my folks had had 49er season tickets since 1950, I told him about past players and how I used to freeze to death watching and cheering for them. He became a fan. Then, in the 80's, when they were winning and everyone seemed to be a fan, with a sly grin, Dalt ask me why everyone had new shirts and ours were old and faded. We chose a favorite 49er shirt to bury him in. We will suffer the day of Dalton's death until the day of our deaths.
Dalton grew up watching his Dad race dirt track at Triple M Speedway in Marysville, CA. When he was old enough he was probably the only driver to ever race with his tank of oxygen strapped into the race car beside him. Dalton was a good driver and was very competitive. He won some and he lost some and along the way really made a few guys upset to be beaten by a guy on oxygen. Others admired and respected him.
In January of 1989, several days before he died, Dalt told a friend he would die after the Super Bowl. He had once said to me, "There is quality and then there is quantity, Mom. When the quality is gone, I'm out of here.' On Jan. 22, a few hours after the game, I knew the 'quality' was gone. Dalton died at home, surrounded by a houseful of loved ones and good friends while a soft rain fell outside. Though unconscious, we like to think he knew his 49ers were the champions.
After Dalt's passing and at his request, a gift was delivered to his doctor who was a Cowboy fan. He and Dalt had a running verbal battle over which one was the best team. Without opening it, the doctor laughed and told us he didn't want that blankety blank 49er shirt. He was right...but he took the shirt. It was Dalt's last joke.
Dalt could talk with and joke with the young and old alike. He never knew a stranger and he never lost a friend. He could charm your socks off without untying your shoes. He was the laughter in our lives. During his lifetime, the family completely focused on him. Even after all this time, each of us misses him terribly.
Songs decided on with Dalton before his passing to be played at his funeral were 'Dust in the Wind';'Wind Beneath my Wings';'Forever' and Dalt's special request, 'Here I am, There I go, Turn the Page.'
We never knew, until now, that once upon a time, an angel walked beside us...and he still does. He is our son, father and brother...his name is Dalton Lee Davis.
There is no better friend than a brother and no brother quite like you....Love from Melody, Kory and Charm.
Go thou thy way and I go mine
Apart, yet not afar
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And God keep watch 'tween thee and me
This is my prayer
He looketh thy way
He looketh mine
And keeps us near.
I sigh sometimes to see thy face
But since this may not be,
I'll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
Love from Mama, Daddy, Melody, Kory and Charm.
'WEEL C 'YA'.
ONE MORE DAY
ONE MORE TIME
ONE MORE SUNSET,
MAYBE I'D BE SATISFIED
BUT THEN AGAIN
I KNOW WHAT IT WOULD DO..
LEAVE ME WISHING STILL,
FOR ONE MORE DAY WITH YOU....(Mama)
Angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.............(George Elliott)
IF YOU LOVE SOMEBODY ENOUGH
YOU CAN STILL HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER AFTER THEY ARE GONE!
(We still hear the sweet, funny sound of his laughter.)
Our family wishes to thank you for leaving Dalton flowers. If you have lost a loved one, you know how much it means to us.
'An Angel in the book of life, wrote down our dear sons birth and whispered as she closed the book, 'To beautiful for earth!' (author unknown)
Thanks to FAG for this wonderful site and to an angel named Sherri for sponsoring Dalt.
Please, if you have time, take a minute and visit Dalton's niece, JODI LYNNE SMITH. He loved her so much.
Dalton is the much loved son of Barbara Ruth Hammons and R. L. Davis. That he loved them back is a given. He was the greatest of big brothers to Melody, Kory and Charm. They were so important to him. He looked out for them and they made sure he was taken care of. The song, "He's Not Heavy, He's my brother" describes how they loved him. As children, they could run outside and play but they always made sure that on a cold windy day, their brother had a jacket on. One time, when Dalton was about 10, he had been ill and we took him into the doctor and got some medicine. The next morning, his 7 year old brother Kory, was groggy and bleary eyed. I ask him what was wrong with him and he replied that he had stayed awake all night to make sure Dalton kept breathing. Even though I had been in their room several times during the night, I never heard a peep out of him. Through the years, Kory kept watch over his brother. When they were grown, he came from work on breaks and lunch to do Dalt's postual drainage. He was on call for him 24/7. He never complained.
Dalton was the proud uncle of Brandon, Dane, Chance, Chelsea, Shea and Jessica. He loved them all. Sadly he never got to meet his nieces, Haley or Chadahn here on earth, nor the great nephews, Dylan, Ryder, Brody and Riley, Kahne and his sweet little great niece, Shelby, but I bet he gave them all a big hug and a kiss, before they left heaven. How he loved little children. How he would have loved them.
We are so proud and honored that God chose us to be Dalton's family. Our memories of him are so sweet. They will never be forgotten. What times we had together!
Dalt was the adored father of Cash Lee Dalton Davis L.T.D. (Dalt said he was a 'limited edition') His son was everything that kept him alive. He wanted to live long enough that Cash would have some memory of him. Cash was 9 years old when Dalt passed. He has since graduated from UC Davis in Sacramento, CA. with a double major in History and English.
Dalton died from a fibrous lung disease that he had all of his life. During the years of hospitals, lung surgeries and painful tests, he never lost his sense of humor. He told me, "When my body quits rejecting me, Mom, I'll get well." Whenever he met a young child with breathing problems, he immediately referred them to his own lung specialist in Sacramento. There are parents today who owe the health of their children to Dalton's concern.
While Dalt was in high school, we owned a fast food restaurant. One day, while I was cooking an order, I heard him at the front window teasing an old man about how thick his milk shake was. I thought, "Honey! That old man is going to come right through that window and tear your head off." Not so! Dalt stuck a straw in it, turned it upside down and ask, "Is this thick enough for you?" The shake and the straw stayed in the cup. From then on, no one could make a shake for that man but Dalt. If Dalt wasn't there, the old fella walked off. When my son heard the old man was ill and confined to bed, he went to his house every day and took him his thick shake. He would sit and talk for awhile too. This went on for a couple of weeks until the old man died. Dalton cried.
Like the Great Grandfather he never knew, Dalton was a 'horse trader' and he was darn good at it. He always got some 'boot' too. From his bed, on oxygen, with a trach in his throat, this child of ours amassed a 'stash' of $5,000.00 with his wheeling and dealing before he died. We often wondered what he could have done if he had been healthy.
Dalt was a wonderful dancer. Any dance he saw, he could do. He also had a very unusual laugh. It was sort of like Woody Woodpecker without running up the scale. After all these years, people still comment on it when they remember Dalt. It was a laugh you would know instantly as his.
He was also quite the mimic. His best impressions were, Stan Laurel of 'Laurel and Hardy' fame and his own invention of the 'poor little boy whose mother beats him'. He pulled that one on me in an elevator at UC Hospital in front of a bunch of doctors when he was 12. Before he got through I thought I was going to go to jail. But then, the elevator doors opened, Dalt straightened up and walked off laughing at me. We made a quick get away and I was laughing too while I threatened to beat him for real.
When Dalt was about 17 or so, my best friend Pam and her little girl Andrea were exposed to a rabid puppy and had to undergo very painful shots in the stomach. When it was apparent that they were going to be okay, Dalton, who loved Pam, would drive by their house and call out to her, "Hey, Pam. Have you been howling at the moon?" or "Hey Pam. Have you peed on any fire hydrants?" We laughed over that for years.
Since the age of 6, Dalt was an avid San Francisco 49er football fan. While in the hospital in San Francisco to have a lobe removed from his right lung, he could look down at Golden Gate Park and see Kezar Stadium, the old home of the '9ers. Since I grew up in San Francisco and my folks had had 49er season tickets since 1950, I told him about past players and how I used to freeze to death watching and cheering for them. He became a fan. Then, in the 80's, when they were winning and everyone seemed to be a fan, with a sly grin, Dalt ask me why everyone had new shirts and ours were old and faded. We chose a favorite 49er shirt to bury him in. We will suffer the day of Dalton's death until the day of our deaths.
Dalton grew up watching his Dad race dirt track at Triple M Speedway in Marysville, CA. When he was old enough he was probably the only driver to ever race with his tank of oxygen strapped into the race car beside him. Dalton was a good driver and was very competitive. He won some and he lost some and along the way really made a few guys upset to be beaten by a guy on oxygen. Others admired and respected him.
In January of 1989, several days before he died, Dalt told a friend he would die after the Super Bowl. He had once said to me, "There is quality and then there is quantity, Mom. When the quality is gone, I'm out of here.' On Jan. 22, a few hours after the game, I knew the 'quality' was gone. Dalton died at home, surrounded by a houseful of loved ones and good friends while a soft rain fell outside. Though unconscious, we like to think he knew his 49ers were the champions.
After Dalt's passing and at his request, a gift was delivered to his doctor who was a Cowboy fan. He and Dalt had a running verbal battle over which one was the best team. Without opening it, the doctor laughed and told us he didn't want that blankety blank 49er shirt. He was right...but he took the shirt. It was Dalt's last joke.
Dalt could talk with and joke with the young and old alike. He never knew a stranger and he never lost a friend. He could charm your socks off without untying your shoes. He was the laughter in our lives. During his lifetime, the family completely focused on him. Even after all this time, each of us misses him terribly.
Songs decided on with Dalton before his passing to be played at his funeral were 'Dust in the Wind';'Wind Beneath my Wings';'Forever' and Dalt's special request, 'Here I am, There I go, Turn the Page.'
We never knew, until now, that once upon a time, an angel walked beside us...and he still does. He is our son, father and brother...his name is Dalton Lee Davis.
There is no better friend than a brother and no brother quite like you....Love from Melody, Kory and Charm.
Go thou thy way and I go mine
Apart, yet not afar
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And God keep watch 'tween thee and me
This is my prayer
He looketh thy way
He looketh mine
And keeps us near.
I sigh sometimes to see thy face
But since this may not be,
I'll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
Love from Mama, Daddy, Melody, Kory and Charm.
'WEEL C 'YA'.
ONE MORE DAY
ONE MORE TIME
ONE MORE SUNSET,
MAYBE I'D BE SATISFIED
BUT THEN AGAIN
I KNOW WHAT IT WOULD DO..
LEAVE ME WISHING STILL,
FOR ONE MORE DAY WITH YOU....(Mama)
Angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.............(George Elliott)
IF YOU LOVE SOMEBODY ENOUGH
YOU CAN STILL HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER AFTER THEY ARE GONE!
(We still hear the sweet, funny sound of his laughter.)
Our family wishes to thank you for leaving Dalton flowers. If you have lost a loved one, you know how much it means to us.
'An Angel in the book of life, wrote down our dear sons birth and whispered as she closed the book, 'To beautiful for earth!' (author unknown)
Thanks to FAG for this wonderful site and to an angel named Sherri for sponsoring Dalt.
Please, if you have time, take a minute and visit Dalton's niece, JODI LYNNE SMITH. He loved her so much.
Dalton was the proud uncle of Brandon, Dane, Chance, Chelsea, Shea and Jessica. He loved them all. Sadly he never got to meet his nieces, Haley or Chadahn here on earth, nor the great nephews, Dylan, Ryder, Brody and Riley, Kahne and his sweet little great niece, Shelby, but I bet he gave them all a big hug and a kiss, before they left heaven. How he loved little children. How he would have loved them.
We are so proud and honored that God chose us to be Dalton's family. Our memories of him are so sweet. They will never be forgotten. What times we had together!
Dalt was the adored father of Cash Lee Dalton Davis L.T.D. (Dalt said he was a 'limited edition') His son was everything that kept him alive. He wanted to live long enough that Cash would have some memory of him. Cash was 9 years old when Dalt passed. He has since graduated from UC Davis in Sacramento, CA. with a double major in History and English.
Dalton died from a fibrous lung disease that he had all of his life. During the years of hospitals, lung surgeries and painful tests, he never lost his sense of humor. He told me, "When my body quits rejecting me, Mom, I'll get well." Whenever he met a young child with breathing problems, he immediately referred them to his own lung specialist in Sacramento. There are parents today who owe the health of their children to Dalton's concern.
While Dalt was in high school, we owned a fast food restaurant. One day, while I was cooking an order, I heard him at the front window teasing an old man about how thick his milk shake was. I thought, "Honey! That old man is going to come right through that window and tear your head off." Not so! Dalt stuck a straw in it, turned it upside down and ask, "Is this thick enough for you?" The shake and the straw stayed in the cup. From then on, no one could make a shake for that man but Dalt. If Dalt wasn't there, the old fella walked off. When my son heard the old man was ill and confined to bed, he went to his house every day and took him his thick shake. He would sit and talk for awhile too. This went on for a couple of weeks until the old man died. Dalton cried.
Like the Great Grandfather he never knew, Dalton was a 'horse trader' and he was darn good at it. He always got some 'boot' too. From his bed, on oxygen, with a trach in his throat, this child of ours amassed a 'stash' of $5,000.00 with his wheeling and dealing before he died. We often wondered what he could have done if he had been healthy.
Dalt was a wonderful dancer. Any dance he saw, he could do. He also had a very unusual laugh. It was sort of like Woody Woodpecker without running up the scale. After all these years, people still comment on it when they remember Dalt. It was a laugh you would know instantly as his.
He was also quite the mimic. His best impressions were, Stan Laurel of 'Laurel and Hardy' fame and his own invention of the 'poor little boy whose mother beats him'. He pulled that one on me in an elevator at UC Hospital in front of a bunch of doctors when he was 12. Before he got through I thought I was going to go to jail. But then, the elevator doors opened, Dalt straightened up and walked off laughing at me. We made a quick get away and I was laughing too while I threatened to beat him for real.
When Dalt was about 17 or so, my best friend Pam and her little girl Andrea were exposed to a rabid puppy and had to undergo very painful shots in the stomach. When it was apparent that they were going to be okay, Dalton, who loved Pam, would drive by their house and call out to her, "Hey, Pam. Have you been howling at the moon?" or "Hey Pam. Have you peed on any fire hydrants?" We laughed over that for years.
Since the age of 6, Dalt was an avid San Francisco 49er football fan. While in the hospital in San Francisco to have a lobe removed from his right lung, he could look down at Golden Gate Park and see Kezar Stadium, the old home of the '9ers. Since I grew up in San Francisco and my folks had had 49er season tickets since 1950, I told him about past players and how I used to freeze to death watching and cheering for them. He became a fan. Then, in the 80's, when they were winning and everyone seemed to be a fan, with a sly grin, Dalt ask me why everyone had new shirts and ours were old and faded. We chose a favorite 49er shirt to bury him in. We will suffer the day of Dalton's death until the day of our deaths.
Dalton grew up watching his Dad race dirt track at Triple M Speedway in Marysville, CA. When he was old enough he was probably the only driver to ever race with his tank of oxygen strapped into the race car beside him. Dalton was a good driver and was very competitive. He won some and he lost some and along the way really made a few guys upset to be beaten by a guy on oxygen. Others admired and respected him.
In January of 1989, several days before he died, Dalt told a friend he would die after the Super Bowl. He had once said to me, "There is quality and then there is quantity, Mom. When the quality is gone, I'm out of here.' On Jan. 22, a few hours after the game, I knew the 'quality' was gone. Dalton died at home, surrounded by a houseful of loved ones and good friends while a soft rain fell outside. Though unconscious, we like to think he knew his 49ers were the champions.
After Dalt's passing and at his request, a gift was delivered to his doctor who was a Cowboy fan. He and Dalt had a running verbal battle over which one was the best team. Without opening it, the doctor laughed and told us he didn't want that blankety blank 49er shirt. He was right...but he took the shirt. It was Dalt's last joke.
Dalt could talk with and joke with the young and old alike. He never knew a stranger and he never lost a friend. He could charm your socks off without untying your shoes. He was the laughter in our lives. During his lifetime, the family completely focused on him. Even after all this time, each of us misses him terribly.
Songs decided on with Dalton before his passing to be played at his funeral were 'Dust in the Wind';'Wind Beneath my Wings';'Forever' and Dalt's special request, 'Here I am, There I go, Turn the Page.'
We never knew, until now, that once upon a time, an angel walked beside us...and he still does. He is our son, father and brother...his name is Dalton Lee Davis.
There is no better friend than a brother and no brother quite like you....Love from Melody, Kory and Charm.
Go thou thy way and I go mine
Apart, yet not afar
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And God keep watch 'tween thee and me
This is my prayer
He looketh thy way
He looketh mine
And keeps us near.
I sigh sometimes to see thy face
But since this may not be,
I'll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
Love from Mama, Daddy, Melody, Kory and Charm.
'WEEL C 'YA'.
ONE MORE DAY
ONE MORE TIME
ONE MORE SUNSET,
MAYBE I'D BE SATISFIED
BUT THEN AGAIN
I KNOW WHAT IT WOULD DO..
LEAVE ME WISHING STILL,
FOR ONE MORE DAY WITH YOU....(Mama)
Angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.............(George Elliott)
IF YOU LOVE SOMEBODY ENOUGH
YOU CAN STILL HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER AFTER THEY ARE GONE!
(We still hear the sweet, funny sound of his laughter.)
Our family wishes to thank you for leaving Dalton flowers. If you have lost a loved one, you know how much it means to us.
'An Angel in the book of life, wrote down our dear sons birth and whispered as she closed the book, 'To beautiful for earth!' (author unknown)
Thanks to FAG for this wonderful site and to an angel named Sherri for sponsoring Dalt.
Please, if you have time, take a minute and visit Dalton's niece, JODI LYNNE SMITH. He loved her so much.
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HERE I AM * THERE I GO * TURN THE PAGE *
Gravesite Details
With the courtyard filled with flowers, Dalton was entombed on a beautiful sunny day in the presence of his family and many, many friends. It was a great sendoff with balloons, smiles, tears and cheers. Dalt would have loved it.
