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Alice Nan Gerlach

Alice Nan Gerlach

Dominion Post04-05-2025
Alice Nan Garrison Gerlach, 88, passed away peacefully Friday, April 25, 2025, with her loving family at her bedside. Born September 5, 1936, Nan was the third child of William Clell and Ercel Mae Daughtery Garrison.She was preceded in death by her husband of 55 years, Oscar Franklin Gerlach; her parents; one sister; and one brother.Nan lived with her grandson and granddaughter-in-law for the past six years, spending time with her great- grandchildren, Reagan Elaine, Brooks Rowan, and Morgan Rae. She also had her faithful great-granddog, Cooper, by her side night and day.Nan is survived by her daughters, Stephanie (Bill) Visnic, Jennifer (Mateo) Dayo, and Kimberly (Clifton) Colebank; and her adoring grandchildren, Alex, Adrian (Ashley), Caleb, Wil, Rylee, Zach, Ethan and Angel. She is also survived by one brother, Don Garrison of Poca.The family wishes to thank the amazing caregivers of WV Caring for hospice services.A private, graveside family service was held at Suncrest Cemetery in Point Pleasant, at 1 p.m. Wednesday, April 30, with Pastor Randy Parsons officiating.
Condolences may be sent to the French family and the guest book signed by visiting www.raynesfuneralhome.com Raynes Funeral Home, 20072 Charleston Road, Buffalo, W.Va., is in charge of arrangements.
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Doyel: A box comes in the mail. Turns out, you didn't know your dad as well as you thought
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Doyel: A box comes in the mail. Turns out, you didn't know your dad as well as you thought

They told me about that first birthday – the first one since he died. They said it would hit like a train. They were right. My dad would've turned 80 on Sunday, July 27. It has been nearly nine months since he died, and for nine months there has been grieving. But this is also true, what they say: It gets better with time, the hurt – the shock – that Robert Leon Doyel, my dad, the hero of my childhood, is gone and not coming back. It is the way of the world for all of us, losing a parent or someone else we love, but your pain cannot lessen mine. Nor can mine lessen yours. The things people tell you, they're true. Everyone grieves in their own way. My way has been gutless, hiding behind the gratitude – it was and still is real – that his suffering is over, and hiding some more when I chose not to fly to Florida to attend his service. 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No, I wasn't going to Florida to attend that service, several months after he died. It was going to hurt too much. It was safer up here in Indiana. It really does get better with time. Everyone tells you that. Nobody told tell me about the box in the mail. Nobody told me about that. From October: Rose's death stabs at my childhood, but rekindles my Dad's forgotten love language Obituary from November: He desegregated youth baseball. Veteran, teacher, judge. I called him dad. He never told me about the sniper fire at Da Nang. My dad was a U.S. Navy cook at Vietnam. That's what he told me – that's what he was. And he was proud of his service, overseeing the galley at Tien Sha Peninsula, on an old French army camp at the foot of Monkey Mountain. Dad was responsible for the feeding of 10,000 soldiers and other personnel every day. He told me that. 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Find IndyStar columnist Gregg Doyel on Threads, or on BlueSky and Twitter at @GreggDoyelStar, or at Subscribe to the free weekly Doyel on Demand newsletter.

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