Fire on the Mountain
I stood there watching her hold his hand for the
last time. Even though I’d heard stories, there was never a moment he seemed
dangerous. One June afternoon we met in his kitchen. Seated quietly behind the
kitchen table, soon he would be out running heavy equipment. Yes, he’d been
eligible for social security for a while now, and he never stopped working.
Despite being older and sometimes lonely, he made the most of his sense of adventure. He’d take the horse trailer for a weekend getaway. Perhaps drink from a mason jar and howl at the moon. A man never confused about his age, just confusing you with the wrinkled and bruised skin.
Folks fail to see the identity issues many of us have. A person we all acknowledge is still experiencing loneliness. They make choices to take on greater risks in the hopes of duplicating old feelings. The sort of wager to prove you’re unpredictable. Some amongst us still admire those cowboy spirits.
My daughter was named for his wife. It was decided that Shirley wasn’t the first choice in 2008. That’s when we decided to run with a variation, Riley. She almost got to spend a year with her great grandfather. A man who never had an ill word for any of his grandchildren.
In 2012, three years after he passed, in the same building, on the same day of the year, we’d lose a son. I’m not sure the mother of my child realizes this eerie overlap in dates. He rests on the top shelf of a curio cabinet that belonged to his great grandmother.
Children still help plow the fields and tend the property that has been in the family for generations. There’s no longer horses and heavy equipment. Over the last decade the occupations and recreations have changed. The dedication to integrity and hard work has remained and is being passed on.
Like their grandfather, they say hello and open the door for a stranger. Something taught to them by their mom. His favorite daughter is their only mother. I sometimes wonder if she’s ever sat them down and told his story. This is one of the few things a father cannot do.
A great respect for my father-in-law prevents me from taking that honor away from the people who represent him best. They have comfortable homes and skills to craft their world because of the example he set. The ability to have a family name with dignity exists through his legacy. I don’t think he knows how much he meant to me… But people who know the name will still say wonderful things about him. On this, I’d bet my last silver dollar.
Despite being older and sometimes lonely, he made the most of his sense of adventure. He’d take the horse trailer for a weekend getaway. Perhaps drink from a mason jar and howl at the moon. A man never confused about his age, just confusing you with the wrinkled and bruised skin.
Folks fail to see the identity issues many of us have. A person we all acknowledge is still experiencing loneliness. They make choices to take on greater risks in the hopes of duplicating old feelings. The sort of wager to prove you’re unpredictable. Some amongst us still admire those cowboy spirits.
My daughter was named for his wife. It was decided that Shirley wasn’t the first choice in 2008. That’s when we decided to run with a variation, Riley. She almost got to spend a year with her great grandfather. A man who never had an ill word for any of his grandchildren.
In 2012, three years after he passed, in the same building, on the same day of the year, we’d lose a son. I’m not sure the mother of my child realizes this eerie overlap in dates. He rests on the top shelf of a curio cabinet that belonged to his great grandmother.
Children still help plow the fields and tend the property that has been in the family for generations. There’s no longer horses and heavy equipment. Over the last decade the occupations and recreations have changed. The dedication to integrity and hard work has remained and is being passed on.
Like their grandfather, they say hello and open the door for a stranger. Something taught to them by their mom. His favorite daughter is their only mother. I sometimes wonder if she’s ever sat them down and told his story. This is one of the few things a father cannot do.
A great respect for my father-in-law prevents me from taking that honor away from the people who represent him best. They have comfortable homes and skills to craft their world because of the example he set. The ability to have a family name with dignity exists through his legacy. I don’t think he knows how much he meant to me… But people who know the name will still say wonderful things about him. On this, I’d bet my last silver dollar.
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| March 11, 2009 |
