Dad's been gone a long, long time, and I miss him more than ever. From quiet days out on the lake, to our annual pilgrimage to deer camp, the memories are still sharp, and it still hurts to know he's gone. I can still picture him coming down off the mountain up above camp, dragging a little spike that made the mistake of finding it's self in front of his 99. There would have been a single shot. Dad just didn't miss. I can still see him coming down, red Woolrich plaid coat open, a heavy sweat on his brow as he leaned into the drag rope.
My daughter gave me a beautiful red and black plaid Woolrich shirt for Christmas last year. I flat out lost it. By far the best, most meaningful gift I've gotten from her. Thanks Tootie.
Here's to all the dads. Those still with us, and those that have gone on to a far better place. We will hunt together again some day men. Keep the light on and coffee hot. We'll be there one day, this I promise.
![[Linked Image]](http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e98/watch4bear/13450312_1219898431401846_4069929498176882912_n_zpsg4hbpvru.jpg)