I lost my dad on June 23, 2009 at the young age of 64.
Dad was never a hunter, but he took me rabbit hunting and squirrel hunting as a youngster. Finally, in 1979 he took me deer hunting. All those times we went, I never saw my dad kill an animal.
On our annual deer hunt in 1985, I was fortunate to take my first deer. We left camp that night, and that was the last day my dad ever hunted.
I miss him every single day and think about him every single day.
After he died, I realized that the only reason he ever took me hunting was to introduce me to the outdoors and let me make a choice as to whether or not I would become a hunter.
Thanks dad.
Ken