As I start writing this particular blog post, I am sitting in my favorite deer stand. It is a warm evening on the 1st of December. My best deer rifle (Remington 30.06) is sporting a new scope. Thanks to my brother-in-law Mike, who picked it up at an auction. It is a vast improvement over the one I had before.
Today, I am not sure if I am hunting deer or hunting peace.
If a deer walks out, our freezer is going to be stocked with the kind of meat we eat most.
If not, I will have written some–and maybe found a little bit of peace sitting here with falling leaves and the sounds of a chipmunk scurrying around.
Peace is a precious commodity these days.
I keep thinking some things are going to get easier or better.
I keep being wrong.
Peace can be mighty elusive.
Especially so when it butts up hard against grief.
Grief isn’t a quick fix process.
If is a hard, hard job.
It is a long, long process.
If is a journey that ebbs and flows.
For whatever reason, Cole’s birthday last week was harder than the two before. Maybe reality is getting more entrenched. Maybe I just miss my boy.
But the truth is rather brutal.
All I have left is pictures and memories. And the feeling that a piece of me is always missing. I doubt I will ever be at peace with that, even as I strive to find peace, however elusive.
And I am hopeful.
I am hopeful that one day in the future this tree will serve as a gentle reminder of the love of a daddy for his boy. A love that will never be diminished by death, time, or absence…
May God be with us all.
Les Ferguson, Jr.