TimJ
Well-known member
Last week my father passed away. Nothing has ever been this difficult for me.
http://www.andersonandsonsfh.com/2014/05/1302/
When I was young he was most definitely a father and not a ''best friend'' type of dad. He and my mother raised six kids who all seem to be pretty normal so I think they did it the right way and I am always thankful for that. We didn't have much but we never lacked for things to do. My dad loved being outside, be it hunting, fishing, gardening or a sporting event he would just rather be out and he was going to take the kids along. Yeah he could sit down and watch baseball on TV(he was a loyal St Louis Cardinals fan) but once done we'd head to the garden or out fishing. If it was something that could be done as a family he wanted it done that way.
He was in his late 30s before I was born so his more daring exploits were well in his past by the time I came around. Still the stories of hunting bluebills on some marshes that barely existed by the time I heard the stories and the tales of him in his youth roasting fish in mud along the river didn't seem so far off. I have always pictured his childhood being like the Little Rascals. He was a child of the depression and I think his ability to find joy in things that didn't take much money came from that.
He was standing next to me when I shot my first bird with a shotgun. It was the first dove I had ever shot at and I don't think that he thought I had much chance to get one. I'm sure I missed a bunch after that but I can only remember how proud I was to shoot that with him.
During the 90s he and I hunted and fished a lot... I mean a lot. Pheasants, ducks, deer, walleyes, crappies... whatever was there we would go after it. We icefished the most. He loved icefishing. At times it was as much to see the friends we had made out on a couple lakes as for the fishing.
Once he had his first open heart surgery it got harder and harder to get out. The last time we duck hunted together was election day 2000. It was a perfect snow storm. We had duck piling into a small opening and managed to get a few mallards. We saw a massive migration going through that day. He also had trouble getting around and decided it just wasn't fun for him anymore and he couldn't hunt the way he had always liked to.
Over the past 10 years he had been going down. Not fast at first but you could tell. At first he couldn't get up and down in the garden, then he couldn't get to the places he had always fished and could only go in a boat. As hard as it was to see him be less active there were other things much worse to see. It is hard for me to admit that I started to miss him several years ago and not just last week. I would never wish what I have been through on anyone but at the same time I am glad I was there. I'm no saint, he deserved that and more for being there for me.
Now going on seems so strange. The potatoes in the garden are starting to grow well and in a couple weeks the first ones will be dug. He always enjoyed seeing them right out of the ground and every single time he would tell me just how he wanted them cleaned and cooked. I picked the first blossoms on the peas so they could go with him and I see they are now setting on plenty with the rains we have had in the past few days. I'm sure he is helping because he knows how much I hate to water.
RIP Dad
Tim
http://www.andersonandsonsfh.com/2014/05/1302/
When I was young he was most definitely a father and not a ''best friend'' type of dad. He and my mother raised six kids who all seem to be pretty normal so I think they did it the right way and I am always thankful for that. We didn't have much but we never lacked for things to do. My dad loved being outside, be it hunting, fishing, gardening or a sporting event he would just rather be out and he was going to take the kids along. Yeah he could sit down and watch baseball on TV(he was a loyal St Louis Cardinals fan) but once done we'd head to the garden or out fishing. If it was something that could be done as a family he wanted it done that way.
He was in his late 30s before I was born so his more daring exploits were well in his past by the time I came around. Still the stories of hunting bluebills on some marshes that barely existed by the time I heard the stories and the tales of him in his youth roasting fish in mud along the river didn't seem so far off. I have always pictured his childhood being like the Little Rascals. He was a child of the depression and I think his ability to find joy in things that didn't take much money came from that.
He was standing next to me when I shot my first bird with a shotgun. It was the first dove I had ever shot at and I don't think that he thought I had much chance to get one. I'm sure I missed a bunch after that but I can only remember how proud I was to shoot that with him.
During the 90s he and I hunted and fished a lot... I mean a lot. Pheasants, ducks, deer, walleyes, crappies... whatever was there we would go after it. We icefished the most. He loved icefishing. At times it was as much to see the friends we had made out on a couple lakes as for the fishing.
Once he had his first open heart surgery it got harder and harder to get out. The last time we duck hunted together was election day 2000. It was a perfect snow storm. We had duck piling into a small opening and managed to get a few mallards. We saw a massive migration going through that day. He also had trouble getting around and decided it just wasn't fun for him anymore and he couldn't hunt the way he had always liked to.
Over the past 10 years he had been going down. Not fast at first but you could tell. At first he couldn't get up and down in the garden, then he couldn't get to the places he had always fished and could only go in a boat. As hard as it was to see him be less active there were other things much worse to see. It is hard for me to admit that I started to miss him several years ago and not just last week. I would never wish what I have been through on anyone but at the same time I am glad I was there. I'm no saint, he deserved that and more for being there for me.
Now going on seems so strange. The potatoes in the garden are starting to grow well and in a couple weeks the first ones will be dug. He always enjoyed seeing them right out of the ground and every single time he would tell me just how he wanted them cleaned and cooked. I picked the first blossoms on the peas so they could go with him and I see they are now setting on plenty with the rains we have had in the past few days. I'm sure he is helping because he knows how much I hate to water.
RIP Dad
Tim
