There was a morning in the woods I will carry for the rest of my life…… December 1985
Dad and I stood still, breath held, watching two deer step out of the mist like something sacred. Twin trophies. Food for the freezer. Stories for the wall. Everything a hunt is supposed to be.
But in that silence, something else appeared.
A small snail, resting on a branch, surrounded by drops of water. It had everything it needed. No fear. No rush. Just living.
We looked at it, then at each other. No words. Just understanding.
We unloaded our rifles and turned back.
That day wasn’t about what we could take. It was about what we were given: The chance to see life, to feel peace, to choose it.
That was my dad. That was my mom too. They didn’t just raise me, they showed me how to see. How to learn by looking before speaking, see before judging, they along with my grandparents taught me valuable lessons.
How to recognize that the quiet moments are the ones that matter most. It’s sadly true, that especially in 2026, parents and children don’t have the same bonds and love.
And now they’re gone…. my family is no more.
What’s left is this ache that doesn’t really go away. It sits in the quiet, in the mornings, in the places where I wish I could turn and see them again. People don’t always understand it. They think it’s just grief., they don’t have the ability to feel or to let it show…. odd to me it is.
It’s missing a kind of love that felt whole. A bond that didn’t need explaining. A way of living that made sense.

I don’t just miss them, I miss what life felt like with them in it.
Sometimes I wish it was yesterday. Not to change anything. Just to stand there again… in the woods, in the stillness, with my dad beside me, knowing without saying a word that we chose peace.

thank you for your pictures for my writings 👑