As I sit here in my tree stand, I can’t help but admire how beautiful the fall Kansas woods are. Fall came late this year, but as it has for each of my sixty-three years, it did arrive. One thing for certain, fall will always follow summer, winter will come on the heels of fall, and the other seasons will fall in line as well. As I sit this cool fall afternoon thinking about the passing of time, I do so with a heavy heart. Just last week, I attended the funeral of one of my good friend’s son. Life prepares us to bury our grandparents and parents, but not our children.

My buddy and I started pheasant hunting together over thirty years ago. When our boys got old enough, they started hunting with us. Man, we had some good times back then. We would get a kick out of how the boys would get so startled at the flush of the birds, and when they would shoot one, well, it just doesn’t get any better than that feeling! But the boys got older, and our lives got busier, and eventually, the annual pheasant hunts stopped. In fact, I don’t think we have hunted together in the last ten years.

Just like I continue to hunt with my kids, my friend continued to hunt with his kids. I enjoyed hearing about their successful hunts, and I’m sure he liked seeing pictures of my kids’ successes. Yet, although we talked about scheduling a hunt together, we never did. Now, that opportunity is gone forever.

If I sound a bit sentimental, it is because I am. Yes, I wish that we would have made time to get our families together for a hunt or two over the years. But, what I’m sad about is the thought that my buddy will never hunt with his son again.