Remembering J.R. Davis

Barry Lee Davis, Jr., or J.R. as he was affectionately known to his family and friends, was just 18 years old when he chose to join the Army and serve his country. His service took him to far-off places, like the Persian Gulf and Karlsruhe, Germany, before eventually settling near Fort Stewart, Georgia.

J.R. was a hardworking, dedicated, and kind man — traits that earned him Bronze Stars, medals of achievement, and even the title of Soldier of the Month at the 703rd Main Support Battalion at Fort Stewart.

He was also extremely funny and had nicknames for just about everyone he knew, including his mom, Cara, who he lovingly referred to as “Yarn Woman,” because she liked to crochet. He meant no disrespect to her, and when he said Yarn Woman, we all knew who he meant. Even though J.R. is gone now, Cara and I stay in touch — speaking nearly every day at times. We both miss him so much and always mention him in our conversations and talk about the small pranks he would play.

His sense of humor was a force to be reckoned with at times. He absolutely loved shooting rubber bands at me and would lie in the hallway of the tiny trailer we rented and shoot rubber bands under the door while I was in the bathroom. Any time his pranks would get on my nerves, Cara reminded me there were “no takebacks,” meaning I married him, and I couldn’t send him back to her.

J.R. and I were married for 20 years when he passed away. He died at the age of 43 from pancreatic cancer with a lot of life left to live, but it was God’s will, and we all miss him every day.  

I remember J.R. for his love of family and his country. Whenever he put on that uniform, he was just so happy and full of pride. Any chance I get to share his story with other soldiers I meet, I talk about him, his service to our country, and — of course — his wit and sense of humor.  

I remember J.R. for being an avid dog lover, despite the fact that he also nicknamed his mom’s dusting wand “Dusty on a stick” because — according to J.R. — it bore a striking resemblance to Cara’s dog, Dusty. At the end of J.R.’s life, his dog, Shirley, was by his side every day seemingly helping him while he fought his cancer. Any time I was hesitant to leave him — even for a moment, he would say, “It’s OK, Shirley and I got this.”

I remember J.R. was a fighter. He fought bravely against his cancer. Unfortunately, it was a battle he couldn’t win. 

I remember that he passed away at home with me by his side. 

I remember those early morning hours, after the emergency personnel left, the house got quiet, and a calm came over me. 

I remember when the funeral home came to get him. I watched the hearse reach the end of the street and drive out of sight. 

I remember walking back into the house, shutting the front door, walking through the house to the back door, opening it, and letting out a blood-curdling cry. And, when I was done, I shut the back door and walked calmly to the living room, and sat in my chair. 

It is so heartbreaking to watch someone that you love suffer and not be able to do anything about it but care for them and love them. As I type this, on what would have been our 30th wedding anniversary, I remember J.R. for the love and laughs we shared, for his love of family, friends, and his country. The memories (and nicknames) he left us with ensure he will never be forgotten. 

Through his loss, J.R. left me with one more thing to always remember: Tomorrow is not promised to any of us. Tell and show your loved ones how much they mean to you every day. Don’t let the rush of daily life convince you that hugs, I love yous, and — yes — even playful rubberband shooting can wait till tomorrow.

Theresa Davis is the surviving spouse of Sergeant Barry Lee Davis, Jr., U.S. Army Veteran

Photos courtesy of  Theresa Davis.