It’s been 15 years since I lost my father. You never quite get over it. Sometime in the last few years I quit getting mysteriously depressed around the anniversary of his death.
February has been a particularly brutal month in my life as far as death is concerned, My paternal grandfather, mother, father, and three friends all passed in February. There were times I'd just like to skip from Christmas to Easter, not only because of the sometimes grief stricken memories, but here in the great white north, February and sunshine tend not to go together and the temps habitually fail to make double digits above zero. It's -9 right now, we may hit 7 today.
But I do have touchstones to better times with all those that left us in February. A couple spinning reels and old poles of my grandfather's. He and i spent many a morning pulling panfish from cattle ponds using those. My mother's hand stitched Lord's Prayer at the end of the hall. My father's old service .38 I sometimes throw in the truck or in my jacket. I truly can't recall how many times I cleaned that old revolver. Of the others we lost in February, I have a faded photograph of my friend where we're both smiling astride our bikes. From another, an actual stone from a fishing trip we took on the Klamath river and some tributaries back in the late '70's. A bear investigated our camp while we waded a creek a half mile away. And a screwdriver I'd borrowed that I never got the opportunity to return. It's never made it to my toolbox, but has resided on my dresser near the rock and the photo for over 40 years.
There have been others that exited my life and sometimes quite unexpectedly, in other months, but for some reason, February seems to collect my friends and family at a rate that seems higher than the rest of the year, though I've never actually sat back and tried to work out the math. I only know that during this month I reflect longer than the other months whether by accident or design, I can't say. Over time, the sharpness of this time of year has faded a bit, but as with all things, that'll happen over time.
I find myself scrolling FB marketplace for jon boats almost daily. I’ll be living vicariously through your adventures until I finally decide to pull the trigger on one myself.
I lost my Dad suddenly...28 years ago and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him, directly or indirectly in some thing he said or did. He'd come home...he worked 6 days a week, for 12 hrs cutting hair... He'd read to us (even though we could read for ourselves) and it was like a private radio program. We'd go fishing. We were poor so for a week before he'd wet the yard down in the evening and we'd pick night crawlers to us for bait. It was a build up to the day we went fishing. Dad could be well "DAD" when we broke his rules but other than that it was "Pal"... "Hi Pal! Howya doing?" I can remember even in college I'd be busy studying and he'd come in my room quietly and look over things he didn't understand, squeeze my shoulder and whisper, "Hi Pal..." or "I'll let you get back to it, Pal"... Yeah I get what you're saying about fishing. I just told another commenter on your essay that I think all I did was fish up to about 30y years ago. We did it as an extended family as well as "just us." My last memories of my Dad was him and his Pals going night fishing together... I had the same experience you had with your Dad in the boat. You could keep quiet for hours and that was jake. At other times we'd have some of the most deep and enlightening conversations about life... Now fishing is lonely and just reminds me of all the people I miss. Maybe I'll try again this Spring....
Thanks for sharing about your dad. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me that I can’t seem to “just get over it.” After 8 years, I figured this grieving thing would get easier. It isn’t easier; just different. I’m sorry that fishing is lonely for you now. For me, it’s one of the best ways for me to feel his presence. Maybe some Jon boat therapy would work for you, too.
My brother still fishes although he’s older and dragging Dad’s old boat out is harder for him. He went on a much deserved fishing trip to Canada and used an inflatable kayak which we tested together. (He’s spent the last 10 yrs without a vacation taking care of his disabled wife.) It was a circus. It worked for him. (My brother has Crohns and weighs maybe 165) When he wanted me to try it I got in and had a hard time getting out! I’m 6’3 and 225 but very fit. When I got out…Both of us laughing my brother noticed on one side of the kayak in bold letters: Do Not Exceed 200lbs. I told him that I tested it for him. He sent me an email later telling me how much fun he’d had just testing out the boat. It did remind me of happier times. Maybe I’ll “go for a fish” with him this Spring, but his time is very limited anymore. I know what you mean about the grief. When you’re close to someone you don’t ever really get over it. It just turns into another expression. Its hard not to think of my Dad or Grandpa without tearful smiles…But as time has passed I began to realize that I got to experience them, and a lot of people don’t experience either people or events in their lives anymore. They don’t experience the joy of the mystery of the moment. You’ve lived through it and its over and its still all good because you got to live the experience. That’s something you’ll always have.
I miss my fishing boat at times. I used to enjoy fishing on a lake that my grandfather had a cabin on. It is a 40-acre lake that is an easy fishing spot.
We love seeing your new boat out our window (and Errol has many questions)! This is also the second time we’ve posted something here on the same day. Very special, and thank you for sharing your grief. ❤️🩹
Maybe Errol would like to go out on the boat when the weather warms up? I do think it’s special that you and I seem to ride similar waves of creativity. I thoroughly enjoyed your post (and I think you and I have far more similarities than a casual observer might guess).
Lovely memory, well told.
I know every sound and sense you described. You found the words beautifully.
It’s been 15 years since I lost my father. You never quite get over it. Sometime in the last few years I quit getting mysteriously depressed around the anniversary of his death.
Beautiful story. Enjoy the boat.
February has been a particularly brutal month in my life as far as death is concerned, My paternal grandfather, mother, father, and three friends all passed in February. There were times I'd just like to skip from Christmas to Easter, not only because of the sometimes grief stricken memories, but here in the great white north, February and sunshine tend not to go together and the temps habitually fail to make double digits above zero. It's -9 right now, we may hit 7 today.
But I do have touchstones to better times with all those that left us in February. A couple spinning reels and old poles of my grandfather's. He and i spent many a morning pulling panfish from cattle ponds using those. My mother's hand stitched Lord's Prayer at the end of the hall. My father's old service .38 I sometimes throw in the truck or in my jacket. I truly can't recall how many times I cleaned that old revolver. Of the others we lost in February, I have a faded photograph of my friend where we're both smiling astride our bikes. From another, an actual stone from a fishing trip we took on the Klamath river and some tributaries back in the late '70's. A bear investigated our camp while we waded a creek a half mile away. And a screwdriver I'd borrowed that I never got the opportunity to return. It's never made it to my toolbox, but has resided on my dresser near the rock and the photo for over 40 years.
There have been others that exited my life and sometimes quite unexpectedly, in other months, but for some reason, February seems to collect my friends and family at a rate that seems higher than the rest of the year, though I've never actually sat back and tried to work out the math. I only know that during this month I reflect longer than the other months whether by accident or design, I can't say. Over time, the sharpness of this time of year has faded a bit, but as with all things, that'll happen over time.
I find myself scrolling FB marketplace for jon boats almost daily. I’ll be living vicariously through your adventures until I finally decide to pull the trigger on one myself.
I lost my Dad suddenly...28 years ago and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him, directly or indirectly in some thing he said or did. He'd come home...he worked 6 days a week, for 12 hrs cutting hair... He'd read to us (even though we could read for ourselves) and it was like a private radio program. We'd go fishing. We were poor so for a week before he'd wet the yard down in the evening and we'd pick night crawlers to us for bait. It was a build up to the day we went fishing. Dad could be well "DAD" when we broke his rules but other than that it was "Pal"... "Hi Pal! Howya doing?" I can remember even in college I'd be busy studying and he'd come in my room quietly and look over things he didn't understand, squeeze my shoulder and whisper, "Hi Pal..." or "I'll let you get back to it, Pal"... Yeah I get what you're saying about fishing. I just told another commenter on your essay that I think all I did was fish up to about 30y years ago. We did it as an extended family as well as "just us." My last memories of my Dad was him and his Pals going night fishing together... I had the same experience you had with your Dad in the boat. You could keep quiet for hours and that was jake. At other times we'd have some of the most deep and enlightening conversations about life... Now fishing is lonely and just reminds me of all the people I miss. Maybe I'll try again this Spring....
Thanks for sharing about your dad. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me that I can’t seem to “just get over it.” After 8 years, I figured this grieving thing would get easier. It isn’t easier; just different. I’m sorry that fishing is lonely for you now. For me, it’s one of the best ways for me to feel his presence. Maybe some Jon boat therapy would work for you, too.
My brother still fishes although he’s older and dragging Dad’s old boat out is harder for him. He went on a much deserved fishing trip to Canada and used an inflatable kayak which we tested together. (He’s spent the last 10 yrs without a vacation taking care of his disabled wife.) It was a circus. It worked for him. (My brother has Crohns and weighs maybe 165) When he wanted me to try it I got in and had a hard time getting out! I’m 6’3 and 225 but very fit. When I got out…Both of us laughing my brother noticed on one side of the kayak in bold letters: Do Not Exceed 200lbs. I told him that I tested it for him. He sent me an email later telling me how much fun he’d had just testing out the boat. It did remind me of happier times. Maybe I’ll “go for a fish” with him this Spring, but his time is very limited anymore. I know what you mean about the grief. When you’re close to someone you don’t ever really get over it. It just turns into another expression. Its hard not to think of my Dad or Grandpa without tearful smiles…But as time has passed I began to realize that I got to experience them, and a lot of people don’t experience either people or events in their lives anymore. They don’t experience the joy of the mystery of the moment. You’ve lived through it and its over and its still all good because you got to live the experience. That’s something you’ll always have.
I miss my fishing boat at times. I used to enjoy fishing on a lake that my grandfather had a cabin on. It is a 40-acre lake that is an easy fishing spot.
We love seeing your new boat out our window (and Errol has many questions)! This is also the second time we’ve posted something here on the same day. Very special, and thank you for sharing your grief. ❤️🩹
Maybe Errol would like to go out on the boat when the weather warms up? I do think it’s special that you and I seem to ride similar waves of creativity. I thoroughly enjoyed your post (and I think you and I have far more similarities than a casual observer might guess).
I somehow am just seeing this! Yes please to a boat adventure… and on the rest, too!
Nothing more soothing than being on the water. Your father must have meant a great deal to you. My sympathies on his passing.
Losing someone is hard and there's no way around it.
Maybe the boat will help you process the loss for a season or two. Then you can celebrate the shared times instead of the loss.
I love water and being on a boat. It is very helpful for our spiritual and mental health.