In March of 2011 I lost my best hunting buddy, my dad.

Dad enjoyed coming to the "lodge" to hunt and fish. He was always first out of bed and ready to go no matter how cold it was outside.

I would carry his crossbow and he would carry his trusty McDonalds coffee cup out to the "condo". We spent many hours just enjoying the wildlife and each others company, sometimes missing deer because we dozed off but that's part of what builds a memory.