Missing Chief

I've been thinking about my grandfather a lot lately. He died in December 2002. It wasn't completely unexpected, but it was quicker than I expected. He was much more ill than I realized, and his death caught me by surprise.

He was a hunter and a fisherman, and fall always brings thoughts of him to mind. Camping with Chief as a child gave me a reverence of nature, and ingrained in me the importance of conservation. Watching summer thunderstorms with him from the front porch of their old house left me with a lifelong love of storms, and a fascination with nature's awesome power.

He was a great man, and I loved him more than I was ever able to tell him. I'm grateful that I had him in my life for so long, and that he went quickly once his body began to fail him.

I feel him with me at times when walking in quiet places. I imagine him striding along with me on legs once again strong, but he's always just outside of my peripheral vision. Sometimes I hear his voice speaking to me in its deep rich timbre, but I can never quite catch what he's saying.