The past year started off as a sprint race, a race against the very little time we thought we had left together. It turned into a marathon-- our specialty.
Like any marathon, the last 6 miles were grueling and euphoric. We did it! The last two weeks were spent carving out more memories, not being sad or slowing down.
As long as I carried a shotgun around, he was happy man thinking we were hunting.
I think he tried to visit every tree to check for squirrels.
Sometimes, squirrels would magically fall from trees and as far as he was concerned, they were gifts from the gods.
He'd carry them around forever and even take them swimming.
One one of my days off, we 'hunted' together 6 hours.
The rain wasn't stopping us. We walked on and on through the woods... mostly because earlier in the day, I'd gotten the farm truck hopelessly stuck in the mud.
"Are we having fun yet, mom?"
All that running builds appetite, and makes for a sleepy boy.
After a deserved nap, we went kayaking. Never know when a duck might alight.
This is how I will remember my Cole, ears flapping in the wind, relentlessly going forward, embracing adventure. So now, I'm supposed to go on and be bold and strong, because as my wonderful stepdad pointed out: "That's Cole's legacy". Indeed, I wouldn't have done half the things I did this past decade without him, now it's time for me to honor his gift and carry it forward.
