I have two layers of emotion in knowing that I have now entered the inevitable orphan stage of my existence. There is a sadness. I liked having Dad in the world, even from afar, it was comforting. I liked joking with him and apologizing for failing to become a cowboy and carrying on the heritage of the Sheppherd family. Even though I was the ranchless, horseless, hatless, beltbuckleless, and bootless offspring who never rode anything wild in a rodeo, I was still loved. I was the non-cowboy who wrote books. Below this feeling of loss for my Dad is a deeper feeling of gratitude for who he was. He was always finding little ways to help others. This was often a hard task, in the midst of people finding fault and dissatisfaction with his lack of monetary achievement. However, with the things that really mattered, he died a rich soul. The wealth he accrued during his 90 plus years was eternally spiritual, not ephemerally material. I have come to understand that the only thing we take with us into the heavenly realms is the good we do, as well as the good we intend to do. Dad deposited a lot in his eternal bank account. I also liked the way he helped others, not with grandiose gestures and public acts of beneficence, but with quiet humble deeds. He was always on the lookout for providing some anonymous kindness. Whenever he did something for himself, after all he was a horse trader, it was to acquire material resources to continue to help others. He did this selflessly, without some deal with God. He wasnt expecting Divine recompense for doing good. He wasnt motivated by some reward up in Heaven. He helped his family and strangers because it was right thing to do. He figured that this was why he was born to live out a lifetime down here on Earth. He helped people even when they were ungrateful or so wrapped up in their own lives that they didnt notice. His was the kind of role model I respected and as his son, I chose to build upon. I asked him once if there was something I could do for him, any one thing, that would truly make him happy. He thought for a minute and then looked around to see if we were alone. He told me that there was something that I could achieve that none of the preceding ancestors had been able to do, including himself. He spoke on behalf of a long line of real cowboys who survived the realities of the Old West, ranchers, cattlemen, hunters, brand-inspectors, farriers, stable-hands, rough-riders, rustlers, sheriffs, deputies, and outlaws. He asked me to be the first generation to not have to kill someone with handgun. Dad said that this would make him truly content. I promised I would do this especially for him and all his descendants. When it is my turn to go, I look forward to being with him. There are so many stories I havent heard yet. Bye Dad.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Dec 2013 11:10:11 +0000
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