As he sat there in his chair, it appeared that he was aimlessly watching TV. Passing the time. Some days, this was the case.
But today, that show was just background noise to his thoughts. As most of us do, he reflected as his day was drawing to an end. He knew his “day” was drawing to an end. And what a day to reflect on, it was!
He pondered all he had lost in his lifetime. As he looked back, that loss paled in comparison to the gain that he had accomplished. His mistakes weren’t viewed as mistakes, merely lessons learned that formed the foundation for the wisdom he had passed on to generations after him and to generations yet to come.
He thought of his children. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of the lives they had forged on their own. There were times when they made decisions that made him speechless, but nonetheless proud that they were all doing what made them happy. He was proud of each and every one of them. Some shared his DNA, some did not, but nevertheless, all of them were a part of his soul. He had no regrets. He had raised them. He had loved them. He nourished them. And he sat in peace, knowing all of these things, knowing he had given them enough love to endure the rest of their days.
He looked over at his wife, who sat at the dining room table, diligently working on the upcoming week’s lesson plans. He reflected and once again smiled. He thought of the beginning of their relationship, and he chuckled at how stubborn that “mean ass woman” was. But her stubbornness was no match for his.
He would miss her. And he knew she would miss him. But he was glad he was going first. Her strength had proven infallible in her lifetime, and this would be no different. She would survive with a grace that he would never be able to should the roles be reversed.
Their story was not one of a lifelong love. It was not a story of love at first sight. But it was a perfect story. A story of two people sent to each other by God himself. He thought about all the trials that he had had and all the traumas she had shared with him. He sighed a sigh of contentment. All of the hurts, the tears, the sleepless nights in his distant past had led to this. And he’d go through it all again to know this kind of love. He knew in his heart she felt the same. He had no doubt. He would wait for her, and they would dance again.
He looked around the living room, proudly noticing his deer heads. Trophies. Not of the kill. Not of the hunt. But of time spent with friends, loved ones, and mostly with God, in those woods. The prayers he prayed while out there. The naps he took. The laughs he shared. Some of his best memories started with a sunrise and ended with a sunset in those Georgia woods. It had been a long time since he felt “Bubba’s” smooth finish, felt that adrenaline within his veins, and heard that resounding “BANG!” It was so much more than hunting to him. It was his peace.
It wouldn’t be long now. He didn’t know when, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. He was ready. He looked at all he was leaving behind, and a single tear slid down his cheek unnoticed. It had been a good life. Filled with pain and heartache, but enriched with love and laughter. More love and laughter than any man deserved.
His thoughts faded into the background just as he heard Marshall Dillion say, “There was never a horse that couldn’t be rode and never a cowboy that couldn’t be throwed.”
In memory of Henry Solomon Scott Jr.
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