Last week Jim and I said farewell one of the most amazing men to have ever lived, my grandfather Richard Charles Jackson (Rich). Jim likes to call him the last cowboy. There is not a better term I could use to describe this man whose love of adventure, the West, and Oklahoma is only dimmed by the love he extended to his family.
As a child my grandparents where always present and always available to their six grandkids. They only had two girls so my family provided four of their six grandkids. Even though they are gone they still remain a shining example of how wonderful life can be when lived with love, commitment, and hard work.
When my grandmother passed away I remember Rich saying, "Those in heaven aren't going to know what to do with my beautiful Enola." If you ever had the privilege of meeting my feisty and beautiful grandmother, you would understand why that was both accurate and amusing.
Rich was not only a father to my mom and a grandfather to me, but he was also the closest thing my father had to a dad. He took a special interest in making time for my dad to go fishing, hunting, and other excursions. Everything he did in life, was done with humility and compassion.
He was a luminary for his time and upbringing. Even after he became a successful engineer, he would still don his boots and cowboy hat to go plow the field at his beloved Flying Circle ranch or fix fence posts. Rich taught me to bait a fishing hook, ride a horse, shoot a bow and arrow, and gave me my first driving lesson before I could reach the pedals.
His obituary is a wonderful Cliffnote version of his life, but still doesn't do the man justice.
Up until a year ago he was still riding horses, fishing, and tinkering in his shop at 88 years young. Over the last year his health continued to decline. On one of his last days in the hospital he looked at my mom and asked for his sunglasses. My mom was puzzled, and asked him why he needed his sunglasses inside. His response, "Cause I'm about to ride into the sunset."
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