Last Nov 18th was the worst day of my life. I was on a deer stand, on the mountain behind our house, when I was notified of the loss of our son, Michael. On that day I never envisioned being able to go into the woods again. As fall moved into winter, and winter to spring, memories of hunting with my boys began to move within me. Trips to Mississippi where Wade shot his first deer, and Alabama where Michael shot his, with all of us headed to Uncle Sam's hunting club at one time or another. And as turkey season approached, the pull to get back into the woods became stronger, yet evermore painful. After 4 "today is the day" attempts at walking out the door since the opener last weekend, yesterday morning finally was "the day." I'd planned on hunting an area away from where I had been last Nov (for obvious reasons) but the turkeys thought otherwise, as their roosted gobbles led me right back up that same mountain. Moving on autopilot with all the conflicting emotions of my last trip to the woods, I found my sit location and set up against a wide-trunked pine. A couple of yelps later, a gobbler sounded off, and after a few impatient minutes of fighting the desire to call again, he strutted into view at 40 yards. In that moment, I remembered Michael. Not the Michael type of memory of his loss, but the Michael type of memory realized in the photo I use for my FB profile. That picture was of the last time we hunted together. Not really a serious hunt that day. Just a "let's go hang out and see what we see while we solve the problems of the world" kind of hunt. Those are always the best kind. So as the bird moved into an opening, and having to make a decision about whether I would shoot or just leave, I focused my thoughts, prayed for a clean and quick kill, and let a load of 20-gauge TSS fly. Michael, this one was for you.
Edit: I added one more picture to my original post. The stand Michael and I are in was another father/son outdoor effort. 8/8/20 we headed to the woods to put on the burlap and spray paint the bare wood. At the time I was tickled at the "note" and smiley faces he left underneath. Today, I cherish his wonderful sprit and childlike attitude.
Edit: I added one more picture to my original post. The stand Michael and I are in was another father/son outdoor effort. 8/8/20 we headed to the woods to put on the burlap and spray paint the bare wood. At the time I was tickled at the "note" and smiley faces he left underneath. Today, I cherish his wonderful sprit and childlike attitude.
