It was Jan. 1939 and Roy had been to a basketball game at the fieldhouse that day. He was 13 and after the game complained of a bad stomach ache. His mom, Dollie said, " Honey, try laying on your stomach and maybe that will make it feel better." But he couldn't and early the next morning they took him to the City Hospital. They were so poor they couldn't afford any other. Thelma, the oldest, was left in charge. Her siblings thought she was real bossy and that day she made them do laundry. They had to heat the water on the stove and wash everything in the kitchen. They then had to hang the clothes in the kitchen and the dining room--anywhere they could for them to dry because it was winter and they couldn't hang them outside. Toots was only a year old.

When Dollie and Roy got to the hospital with young Roy, doctors immediately took him into the operating room. He was in there for a long time and they waited and waited and waited. It was late in the evening when the doctor came out and said he was dead. His parents were told the anesthesia caused his death.

At home, Thelma had finally gotten the kids to bed, "you kids behave--for all you know Roy may be dead!" Every time a car came by all the little ones jumped up to see if it was Mom and Dad with Roy. Finally a taxi pulled up and Dollie and Roy pulled themselves out and slowly made it into the house. "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!" they cried. They were inconsolable and the kids were so frightened, this time they pretended to be asleep.

The busy active Bucy home was suddenly quiet and very sad. All the relatives from Terre Haute, Brazil and everywhere came (one of the few or only times for some!, little Roy was well-loved by friends and neighbors all over the city. Despite their strong faith, they went through agony putting little Roy to rest. "I don't think Mom and Dad ever got over his death," his sister Marian said. There always seemed to be an air of sadness though both parents knew they would see their beloved son again some day.

Nearly 20 years later, as her body was being slowly engulfed by cancer, Dollie would tell of a dream she had. She saw Jesus and her little boy on the other side of the Jordan River beckoning her over. But she shook her head no, she was not ready. She had little ones at home: Bobby and Ginny needed her still. She hung on the next 3 years and died on Mother's Day, May 9, 1958.