A Tribute to Pa (by AC1830)

Summary:  This is a Father’s Day tribute to our favorite Dad, and to all the dads and kids everywhere.

Rating: K   WC = 1694

 

A/N – After I wrote this first version, I kept feeling it was a bit sad for a Father’s Day tribute, so I re-wrote the ending to make it a bit brighter.  Then I couldn’t choose between the two so I have posted both here.  Now the readers can decide which they prefer.  Enjoy and Happy Father’s Day.

 

A Tribute to Pa

(Sad)

 

Sending tendrils of rose, lavender and indigo reaching across the vast sky and the deep lake, the sun made its farewell as it slipped behind the western Sierras.  The man leaned on a large white boulder by the water’s edge, pen and paper in hand.  He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath.  The air was crisp and filled with too many fragrances to name, yet he knew each one.  Opening his eyes he began to write down his thoughts, thoughts that had been in his heart far too long.

 Where do I begin, Pa?  What do I say?  So many thoughts have been swirling through my mind but now I feel they’ve all been said, without a word being spoken.  Whenever I arrived here, I knew I was home.  Whenever I saw you, I was welcomed.  Whenever I felt your strong arms around me and I heard your gentle voice, I was loved.

 Your heart is so big, as big as this place you have built for me. I cannot fathom how you can hold so much love for me and for the others that fill your life.  My earliest memory is of you and me walking amongst these tall pines.  I was so little then and you were so tall.  You taught me about caring for this land and giving back what I take.  I have tried my best to follow that no matter where I am.

 I remember when you taught me to ride; you said that part of riding was also caring for the horse.  I had to learn all of it or none at all.  I could see the pride on your face the first time I took care of my pony all by myself then saddled him for a ride.  You didn’t know I was looking but I’ll never forget the pleasure that showed on your face that day as we rode together across our land.

 The first time I learned to shoot you took me aside and taught me the gun was a tool.  You wanted me to respect it as much as I did the other tools we used on the ranch, but you also told me that the gun could someday save my life.  It was many years later when I found that to be true.  I never would have imagined hearing your wise words in my head as I protected myself.

 You patiently taught me so much as I grew.  And when you didn’t know it you taught me more.  I watched all you did through the years as you helped others in need and defended our land. You maintained your values and morals no matter the cost to yourself.  Your family came first, then friends and neighbors, then even strangers in need.  You gave so much of yourself; I often feared there wouldn’t be anything left for me at the end of the day.  But you were always there for me – to read to me, to tuck me in, to say my prayers, to be my mentor, my father, my Pa.

 What I am really trying to say is “thank you”.  Thanks for taking the time to be there for me in so many ways.  Thanks for always showing me how to live and love through everything I do.  I am very proud to be your son and I hope I have made you proud to be my Pa.

 

Your loving son,

 

The man read the letter and felt satisfied.  He folded it and slipped it into a pocket in his jacket.  As the sun disappeared behind the watchful peaks, he carefully made his way up the shore to the tree line, then onto the path that led back to the house – the house that was his home for more years than he cared to count.

Once inside he carefully placed the letter in the center of the massive wooden desk.  The multitude of pictures on the desk had been rearranged to surround the letter in a protective semicircle.

Pleased with all he had done the man let his eyes roam one last time around the all too familiar room.  So many memories flooded his thoughts – growing up in this house with his father, his brothers, and later his children, and nieces and nephews.  He smiled at each memory which warmed his heart.  He slowly walked to the door.  On the other side, he put the key in and locked it one last time.

On the desk were photographs of three beautiful women, three handsome sons and many grandchildren; each one a testament to the man with a heart as big as his land.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

A Tribute to Pa

(Happy)

 

Sending tendrils of rose, lavender and indigo reaching across the vast sky and the deep lake, the sun made its farewell as it slipped behind the western Sierras.  The man leaned on a large white boulder by the water’s edge, pen and paper in hand.  He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath.  The air was crisp and filled with too many fragrances to name, yet he knew each one.  Opening his eyes he began to write down his thoughts, thoughts that had been in his heart far too long.

 Where do I begin, Pa?  What do I say?  So many thoughts have been swirling through my mind but now I feel they’ve all been said, without a word being spoken.  Whenever I arrived here, I knew I was home.  Whenever I saw you, I was welcomed.  Whenever I felt your strong arms around me and I heard your gentle voice, I was loved.

 Your heart is so big, as big as this place you have built for me. I cannot fathom how you can hold so much love for me and for the others that fill your life.  My earliest memory is of you and me walking amongst these tall pines.  I was so little then and you were so tall.  You taught me about caring for this land and giving back what I take.  I have tried my best to follow that no matter where I am.

 I remember when you taught me to ride; you said that part of riding was also caring for the horse.  I had to learn all of it or none at all.  I could see the pride on your face the first time I took care of my pony all by myself then saddled him for a ride.  You didn’t know I was looking but I’ll never forget the pleasure that showed on your face that day as we rode together across our land.

 The first time I learned to shoot you took me aside and taught me the gun was a tool.  You wanted me to respect it as much as I did the other tools we used on the ranch, but you also told me that the gun could someday save my life.  It was many years later when I found that to be true.  I never would have imagined hearing your wise words in my head as I protected myself.

 You patiently taught me so much as I grew.  And when you didn’t know it you taught me more.  I watched all you did through the years as you helped others in need and defended our land.  You maintained your values and morals no matter the cost to yourself.  Your family came first, then friends and neighbors, then even strangers in need.  You gave so much of yourself; I often feared there wouldn’t be anything left for me at the end of the day.  But you were always there for me – to read to me, to tuck me in, to say my prayers, to be my mentor, my father, my Pa.

 What I am really trying to say is “thank you”.  Thanks for taking the time to be there for me in so many ways.  Thanks for always showing me how to live and love through everything I do.  I am very proud to be your son and I hope I have made you proud to be my Pa.

 

Your loving son,

 

 

The man read the letter and felt satisfied.  He folded it and slipped it into a pocket in his jacket.  As the sun disappeared behind the watchful peaks, he carefully made his way up the shore to the tree line, then onto the path that led back to the house – the house that was his home for more years than he cared to count.

Once inside he carefully placed the letter in the center of the massive wooden desk.  The multitude of pictures on the desk had been rearranged to surround the letter in a protective semicircle.

Pleased with all he had done the man let his eyes roam around the all too familiar room.  So many memories flooded his thoughts – growing up in this house with his father, his brothers, and later his children, and nieces and nephews.  He smiled at each memory which warmed his heart.  He slowly walked to the door and pulled it quietly closed behind him.

As the rising sun warmed the great room the next morning, the old man sat at his desk with a gentle smile lighting his aged features.  He lovingly caressed the letter he found that morning and looked at the photos around him. On the desk were photographs of three beautiful women, three handsome sons and many grandchildren; each one a testament to the man with a heart as big as his land.  This special gift found its own space in his heart to warm him for the rest of his days.

 

 

Tags:  Ben Cartwright, Family

 

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Author: AC1830

Like many, I grew up with Bonanza. I'm an Adam gal from the beginning but I love all the Cartwrights, Candy and Jamie. In 2015 I reconnected with Bonanza through forums and also found my love of reading and writing fan fiction.

16 thoughts on “A Tribute to Pa (by AC1830)

  1. What a beautiful tribute to Ben by his sons. Lovely, I did like the second better the first was to final. The second made you feel like there is still life in the Cartwright home. thanks

    1. Thank you, Hope. I truly appreciate your thoughts about this story in two forms. I like the way you described both, and I certainly agree.

  2. Both versions are beautiful, and I thought it was Joe in both of them. They’re both heartwarming. I’m not sure which one I prefer. They’re both beautiful.

    1. Thank you for your sweet review. I’m glad you enjoyed both. I did leave the ‘son’ up for guessing too. Thanks for reading, Sierras.

  3. I thought both stories were excellent.
    The first one was a bit of closure as Adam left the Ponderosa. It was sad and I teared up but it was a wonderful tribute to pa.
    The second was for me definately Joe’s voice. The love they shared was so real and it would be something he would do as a grown man sharing his love for his father and kindly surrounding that note with the treasures pa so loved;his wives his boys and their families. Loved this Father’s day Tribute! Thank you. Judi

    (What I love about reading really fine writing is that with the change of a few word the thoughts can be such different moments.)

    1. Thanks Judi for your wonderful comments. I’m glad you saw a different son for each story. That’s one thing I was aiming for; the other being a tribute to a very special father, and his sons surely felt that, even if they didn’t always say it. I agree it could be Joe in the second one. Your description is very plausible. As I wrote each one I could imagine each son in a different way. I’m pleased you liked the story and the style. 🙂

  4. I much rather have the happy one, I like to think that Ben got to read such a lovely letter with such strong sentiments of love and pride for there father. The thought of the house locked for the last time, felt like it was the end of an era lovely story

    1. I appreciate your comments, Adam31845. That’s just the way I felt when I wrote both of the perspectives. I was hoping the stories would give the reader a lot to think about and that it would be a way to honor Ben as a much-loved father.

    1. Thanks for reading and commenting JoJay. I felt at least one of his sons, if not all three, would find a way to say what’s in their heart for their father. I’m glad you liked it.

  5. Although I love both stories, the second version has now captured my heart because it leaves the door open for more. Lovely stories both though and thank you for sharing such beautiful sentiments on Father’s Day.

    1. Thanks Betty. I’m beginning to lean that way myself. Although the first one hits me in a personal way of sorts. I guess that’s where it came from initially. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

  6. Like Ruth, I prefer the second version. The idea of Adam locking up the house forever represents the end of the Cartwright era and this is sad. Whereas Ben reading the second letter, full of love and admiration, from one of his sons was nice.

    1. Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts, Kima. They do leave you with two completely different feelings. I too enjoy seeing the family go on but there’s something about the first one that draws me in for a closer look.

  7. I much prefer the second one. The first one has a finality to it – like the house is being abandoned and no one lives in it any more and I find myself asking the question – being locked for the last time? Does that mean it ceases to exist – like it gets torn down or burned? Give me the second version definitely.

    1. Ruth, You’re absolutely right about the differences. The first one is not something any of us like to think about. Both can happen in real life as well. Thanks for your thoughts.

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