My condolences to you and your family. This post is a reminder to me how short life really is.

 

Lost my dad in a very similar way, hate to see others go through it.
Best wishes to you and your family.

 

Lawman- Sorry for your loss. You know he's in a better place looking down on you. You're correct, life is short and it certainly speeds up as we age. Thanks for the reminder.

 

lost my dad 26 years ago and i still remember every last bit and reading your post brought a tear to my eye and i'm very sorry for your loss, and my dad is the one who got me hooked too even know he was only in my life for 10 years it was an awesome 10 years.

 

My dad, my brother and my son wait just around the bend in the river for me to catch up and fish with them again. Got some things to show my grandson and then I guess I'll be on my way. Love em now while you can, they are gone too soon.

Thanks for sharing Lawman.

 

GOOD post John,,& My DEEPEST SYMPATHIES to You,,for your Fathers passing.. I lost my Dad,,in '97,,He was 76,,& even now,, I still find myself thinking,,when something I want to share with Him,,"I think I'll call Dad & tell Him about this"............ He taught me plenty of the Outdoors,,& I only wish,,that we spent more time out there together.... Because,,those times that we were out there,,was the BEST of times!! Having said that,,I truly believe,,that is the reason I try to get "out there" with my 2 Boys as much as we can...... Thanks,, & God Bless our Dads!! We'll NEVER forget You !! ----->>>>>sonar<<<<<-----

 

Amazing post and I am very sorry for your loss my prayers go out to you and your family. I lost my dad in 6th grade. I think almost all of us on here can agree no one makes a better fishing partner than our dads, and fishing trips with our dads were always the best even if we didn't catch a single fish.

 

There is no time like the present to spend time with the ones we hold dear and near,All too often our lives are consumed with life in general and time slips by so fast that, we soon miss so much and there is hardly a chance to catch up.I spent a lot of time on and off through the years fishing with my Dad. And still I don't feel like we had enough time together.However My two sons they don't get a break!! I am always dragging them off to fish where ever and when ever No matter how much one or the other complains,I just keep them that much longer on the water:B Both are adults and I do my best to let them know that are still my children.I try my best to make a positive impression on them,lest they forget how much I embarrassed them just so they would laugh and find the humor in life that keeps us sane?

 

God bless you sir.

 

Condolences to you and your family Lawman, from another brother lawman (retired)

 

Lawman,
Thanks for sharing your story and reminder to all of us. God bless.

 

Thank you guys for your kind words. You know, I'm sitting here thinking back over my life, and the days I spent with my Father. I lived under his roof for my first 18 years and then flew the nest like young men must. I served my country for some years, moving all over the map. I married and rased my own family. I walked my only daughter down the aisle on her wedding day, and was there to see three grandchildren of my own. But there was always one place that would be home, and that was with my feet under the table of my Father.

Dad had quit hunting before I was born. There were no guns in our home as a child. He had nothing against hunting, and he loved for me to bring him venison for Mom to cook. Dad took my brother and I fishing a couple times a year, even though we lived in Conneaut, some of the best fishing in the state. But what Dad liked to do was, wake me early on a Saturday morning and take me "shangin." For you guys that didn't grow up on Lake Erie sand, "shangin" was to hunt ginseng, or "ginshang" as it was known on the north shore. We would cross miles of deep woods, climb endless wooded hills, and drink at special brooks that only my Father knew. He took me to countless old homesteads, where the only trace that anyone had ever been there were a few sandstone that once held the little home of someone long past. Then our hunt would change from "shangin" to bottles. Finding the homestead's trash pile was not too hard even for me and my short legs. He would pick out glass bottles of every color, and brand names long past. I still have a couple around here someplace. Then we would sit in the shade, and dad would make us lunch. Maybe a cheese sandwich, or a tin of sardines. Depending on the season, we would find wild strawberries, wild apples, dewberries, blackberries, even paw paws. He came from a long line of lumber men, and he taught me all the trees. He showed me beach trees that would take 5 men to wrap there arms around, and the little beechnut hulls. Then we would sit still and look into the branches to see who could first spot the squirrel that was dropping the hulls. I remember him showing me pig nut and saying that it made the best cooking fire, and how to just take a little shag bark from the hickory as not to damage the tree, but for a hot-dog roast, it added a special flavor. Dogwood, ironwood, redbud, etc.

Those were lessons, but his greatest lesson was, (This is how to be a Father.)

Over the years, I, as I'm sure a lot of us older guys will admit, started to see my Father in the mirror as I shaved every morning. I would chuckle to myself when his words came out of my mouth as I showed my son an ironwood tree, or pulled a hawthorn needle out of his toe.

When at last my Father retired, we got to spend many days fishing together. There was a bit of a learning curve, this time with him being the pupil, but he took a little of what I taught, and did just want he wanted to do anyway. That's a dad's privilege.

The lessons of my Father went far past my knowing about the outdoors. He taught me the love that can only be found between a Father and son. He taught me to be honest, honor, faith in God, and above all, he taught me love. Well now,...what's next? Daddy's moved on to whatever is next. I can't claim to know exactly what that is, but I KNOW, without a single doubt, Daddy and I will walk together again in new fields when my days are done. While I am still here, He is still here. I still have some lessons of my Father to pass along to my son, daughter, and my three grandchildren. Big shoes to fill! But they feel just fine on my feet.