sure you hear this all the time but I did know
Lane Frost. My family is from Okalahoma and the
first time I met him was a high school rodeo. Not long after
that my father was transferred and we
moved to California (big culture shock).
Anyway I still followed the H.S. rodeo
circuit even though
I was not riding anymore (no place to keep
the horse). Not long after I became an adult
I moved to
Flagstaff AZ. where I happened to run into
Lane, Tuff, Cody L., Cody C. and many others at a rodeo.
I went up and re-introduced myself to them
and Lane acted as if we had never lost
contact and we
were the best of friends.
I love your website and I am wanting to add
this to it. It is a letter I started writing to Lane not long
after his death and I finished it a few years later I would
like it if you include it and pass a copy of it
on to Clyde and Elsie, I think they would appreciate it.
You, TC Swope
were so many times I wanted to write this letter, but I feel itís now to
But even though you are not with us in body you are in spirit and
thereís things that just canít wait.
You were always the one that
brought us together, that is just people in general.
We watch and cheered as you rode the bulls hoping for a real great
score and whether you
made the 8 seconds or got bucked off you were the model of the rodeo
cowboy a true gentleman
in everyway. You know when
two of your buddies disagreed you were always the one to keep
the peace. Maybe you donít
know it, but small children and adults alike always looked up to you.
You were the one that everyone wanted to be, and even after all this time
every bull rider I know
always talks about Lane Frost the World Champion and the person that he
From the day you were born your destiny was already planned but you
were taken away much to soon.
In the short time you were here you touched many lives, starting when you
were young and
never ending even after youíve gone.
There is not one day that goes by that I donít think about
whether it is by watching a rodeo or hearing a familiar song.
You know it sure is funny every-time
I walk into a rodeo arena I see you there.
Sometimes itís hard to believe that you are really gone.
I know what happened in Cheyenne was real, but I keep thinking
Iím dreaming a real bad dream
and one day I will wake up and somehow you will be there. There in the Rodeo of life bucking out
another Red Rock or being one of the few to conquer Bodacious.
But I know that will never happen so I must live the memory of you.
So in the closing of this letter I just want to say, that as long as there
is a breath in me
I will never let them forget you or your name because you are a true
and Rodeo was your game.
Creech, Hillsboro, Texas,
June 25, 2001
a poem that was given to me when my brother Kelly Newton Creech was killed
in a boating accident on Lake Whitney at the age of 22.
As a matter of fact, he was
killed one year ago today.
It says a lot of things that people feel when they lose a loved one.
While I did not know Lane,
I was in high school when he was on top of the circuit and eventually
I just saw 8 seconds this weekend and found your website this
I hope this poem means as much to you as it has to me.
Creech, Hillsboro, Texas,
June 25, 2001
ďHow long will the pain
last?Ē A broken-hearted mourner asked me.
ďAll the rest of your life.Ē
I had to answer truthfully. We
never quite forget.
No matter how many years pass, we remember.
The loss of a loved one is like a major operation; part of us
and we have a scar for the rest of our lives.
This does not mean that
the pain continues at the same intensity.
There is a short while, at first, when we hardly believe it;
it is rather like when we have cut our hand, we see the blood
flowing, but the pain has not set in yet.
So when we are bereaved, there is a short while before the pain hits
But when it does, it is massive in its effect. Grief is shattering.
Then the wound begins to
heal. It is like going through a dark tunnel.
Occasionally we glimpse a bit of light up ahead,
then we lose sight of it a while, then see it again, and one day we
merge into the light.
We are able to laugh, to care, to live.
The wound is healed so to speak, the stitches are taken out, and we are
But not quite. The scar
is still there, and the scar tissue too.
As the years go by, we manage.
There are things to do, people to care for, tasks that call for full
But the pain is still there, not far below the surface. We see a
face that looks familiar,
hear a voice that has echoes,
see a photograph in someoneís album,
see a landscape that once we saw together,
and it is as though the knife were in the wound again.
But not so painfully. And
mixed with joy too.
Because remembering a happy time is not all sorrow;
it brings back happiness with it.
As a matter of fact, we
even seek such moments of bittersweet remembrance.
We have our religious memories and our memorial days, and our visits to
And though these bring back the pain, they bring back memories of
joy as well.
How long will the pain
the rest of your life.
But the thing to remember is that not only the pain will last, but the
blessed memories as well.
Tears are the proof of life.
The more love, the more tears.
If this be true, then
how could we ever ask that the pain cease altogether?
For then the memory of love would go with it.
The pain of grief is the price we pay for love
Raye Conroy~New Zealand
The 3D Ranch~Hatton Arkansas
Ashlee K. Pearce - Mobile, AL