Solo days this year have been infrequent. I pretend to grumble a bit about that and tease that my # of 20 lbers this year would be bigger if I wasn't sharing shots, but the simple truth is fishing alone hasn't been the same since Dad died. It has been almost a year now, and every time I find myself on the water alone I struggle. Quite simply, I lose focus and just wander. I look for carp, and cast to tailers, but it isn't the same.
I fished a spot dad knew well today, and as usual I could feel him with me. He was there as I stalked a fish, and I know he laughed with joy when the fish took the fly and cursed when the weedbeds cost me a big one. At first, having him there is a comfort and wonder. I am really not fishing alone when I can hear his words and listen to him tease me about a bad cast, but as the day wears on it gets harder. Honestly, I think I am just doing it wrong. Rather than simply knowing he is there, I am carrying him along, holding tight and not letting go and when alone on the river we both loved so well it is just...so...heavy. At the end of the day I am exhausted.
But I keep trying. I have faith that eventually I will have a solo day where instead of carrying dad with me and wearing myself out I will look to my left or right and see him there, walking along beside me. The weight and emptiness will be gone and dad and I will laugh about past takes missed and fish lost while we walk and look for more. Deep down, I know that he can't walk beside me until I let go and the weight I feel when on the water alone is something that I can simply set down. I am just not ready to yet.
Miss you dad.
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5 comments:
Bittersweet trip. I wish I had a chance to introduce my father to carp, but that was not to be. Yes he is there with you. I do empathize.
Gregg
John,
thanks for sharing your blog and this particular entry with us.
Hope you find that peace you're looking for.
People think one fishes alone, but the truth is most of the time....at least for me, that time fishing is spent with the many people I carry with me.
tight lines,
John
I know where you are coming from. It's tough. At times, almost impossible. Faith and knowing how lucky I am to have a Father that taught me about the outdoors kept me going. There are so many fish I wish I've wanted to share with him. Just to call him up and tell him the stories would be great. It gets easier with time. If anything I know I must pass the knowledge taught to me to others. I'm often asked if I fished growing up. You bet I did- I never missed a chance to go with my Dad.
Great tribute post.
Good post John, thanks for it.
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