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I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “Fishing isn’t a matter of life or death, it’s far more important than that!”  I have even quoted it a time or two, enjoying the smiles it brought to other’s faces. These last few weeks, especially last Saturday, has given those words a hollow ring, as I’ve come to realize they are far from true, at least for me. 

It started with the loss of Sue’s mother several weeks ago, the last of our parents.  She lived a long and fruitful life, so while her passing was painful, acceptance came quickly.  Since her passing, short of my Canada trip and the FMO, fishing has been nonexistent for me as weekends have been consumed working with my wife clearing out the house of fifty plus year’s accumulation.  Since her passing, every weekend we’ve dealt with the stark and vivid reminders of loved ones no longer with us.

Saturday, nearing the end of going through boxes stored decades ago, I received a phone call from one of my best friends and a favorite fishing partner, John.  At least I thought it was him per the caller ID.  Every year we plan a fishing trip, and I figured he was calling to check schedules and set a date and location.  This would be a nice break from working on the estate.

“Hey John, what’s up,” I answered.  To my surprise the voice was female, and I instantly recognized it as Janet's, his wife.  My heart dropped, as there are generally only two reasons for a friend’s wife to call, to plan a surprise or she’s bearing bad news.  From the tone of her voice I knew it was the latter and in my heart I hoped John was only hurt or seriously ill.  Those hopes were dashed when she informed me that John had been in a swimming accident in Mexico where they had gone to celebrate his upcoming birthday.  Unfortunately, despite efforts to revive him, John was no longer with us. 

As we travel life’s road, we meet many people and count a good number of them as friends.  Out of all the friends that come and go, for most of us, there are a very small number we count as close, dear friends.  You know who I mean.  The friends, who can be gone for years then walk through the door and it’s just as if they'd left yesterday.  Friends, who accept us as we are, expect nothing of us, and yet, we’d give them anything if they asked.  Friends who are closer than anyone else, except your spouse, and some days she/he wonders whose closer.  Over my life, I’ve counted four such friends, and John was one of them. 

While fishing was core to our friendship, the relationship was far more than that.  It didn’t matter what we did, be it a car rally, cup of coffee, lunch, hike, dinner, camping, boating . . ., you name it. Time spent with John was always time well spent.  And whether you recognize it, you likely know of John through my writings, as our adventures were often the basis for many of my stories.

I share this loss for a number of reasons.  Writing helps me organize my thoughts.  So, while I hurt from losing a friend, I feel I’m a better person for having known John and will always have the memories of the times we shared to treasure.  My writing is a way to honor a fellow angler.  While John will never be thought of as a “fishing great”, he was always my top choice for a fishing partner.  Finally, as I head to Grand Junction to celebrate his life with others who feel his passing as deeply as I, it is my sincerest wish that you have friends who are as dear to you as John was to me. May they always be with you!