inyati13
Well-known member
As sure as we are conceived, we are bound to die.
Yesterday, Wednesday, March 28, at 11:15 am. my dad died. He fought so hard, that I put my hand on his chest that labored for the breath of life and hoped it would help him to the other side. His five children and the wife that he married in 1948 were by his side at the end. We all experienced his will to survive. He was a tough man. I never heard him complain or witnessed him wasting time wishing. He was not a financial success but no one could hold a candle to his lack of interest in money. He had faults and the biggest one I ever observed was that he would rather do for someone else than himself. I was away for 33 years and when I came back 3 years ago he was excited about my farm and especially my cattle. He was proud of how well I took care of them and how gentle I had made them. I wish he could have had a couple more years to watch what I am doing on my farm. The nursing home is only 3 miles from my farm so I often would take him for a two hour field trip. It was something that he looked forward to and provided some pleasure. I guess this may help explain why I often say on CT that there is more to an enterprise like having a cattle operation than efficency, breed of cattle, size of cattle, etc. One of my motives for cattle at least in part was to provide a bond between dad and I. Growing up, I often disliked him but I always loved him. He disliked me too so we were even. He was a good man. He bragged about my mom being the only women he ever dated or ever wanted. I do not mourn for him. I am happy for him. You have to be happy for a man who lives on this good earth for 90 years and enjoyed it. He built fence by himself when he was 87. Memories have been stirring through my mind all day. I was thinking that one of his proudest accomplishments was picking up my younger brother's daughter every day for the first 3 or 4 years of school when my brother could not be there. He would have rather cut his arm off than miss being there for her after school. It must have been something that gave him a sense of worth. My brother held my dad's face in his hands while he was dying and thanked him for helping with his daughter. Crying out loud that he could never have raised her without Dad's help. In those last 36 hours, I think that was the most important words spoken. Her is a picture of dad on his 90th birthday, 2012.
Yesterday, Wednesday, March 28, at 11:15 am. my dad died. He fought so hard, that I put my hand on his chest that labored for the breath of life and hoped it would help him to the other side. His five children and the wife that he married in 1948 were by his side at the end. We all experienced his will to survive. He was a tough man. I never heard him complain or witnessed him wasting time wishing. He was not a financial success but no one could hold a candle to his lack of interest in money. He had faults and the biggest one I ever observed was that he would rather do for someone else than himself. I was away for 33 years and when I came back 3 years ago he was excited about my farm and especially my cattle. He was proud of how well I took care of them and how gentle I had made them. I wish he could have had a couple more years to watch what I am doing on my farm. The nursing home is only 3 miles from my farm so I often would take him for a two hour field trip. It was something that he looked forward to and provided some pleasure. I guess this may help explain why I often say on CT that there is more to an enterprise like having a cattle operation than efficency, breed of cattle, size of cattle, etc. One of my motives for cattle at least in part was to provide a bond between dad and I. Growing up, I often disliked him but I always loved him. He disliked me too so we were even. He was a good man. He bragged about my mom being the only women he ever dated or ever wanted. I do not mourn for him. I am happy for him. You have to be happy for a man who lives on this good earth for 90 years and enjoyed it. He built fence by himself when he was 87. Memories have been stirring through my mind all day. I was thinking that one of his proudest accomplishments was picking up my younger brother's daughter every day for the first 3 or 4 years of school when my brother could not be there. He would have rather cut his arm off than miss being there for her after school. It must have been something that gave him a sense of worth. My brother held my dad's face in his hands while he was dying and thanked him for helping with his daughter. Crying out loud that he could never have raised her without Dad's help. In those last 36 hours, I think that was the most important words spoken. Her is a picture of dad on his 90th birthday, 2012.
