When I was 11 years old my dad and I went on our first backpacking trip together. We knew nothing about backpacking,except that we were sick of the traditional campgrounds and wanted to get into the wilderness. Our first trip was a disaster. We found a nice little spot, that turned out to be a porcupine's home. That poor porcupine wasn't happy and yelled at us half the night. He finally stopped making noise when it started to rain. Our tents leaked, and we were wet and miserable. We hiked out the next morning, wet and sandy. I was freezing cold. At age 11 I was a scrawny twig... Nothing but legs. I am sure that the fact that I had no fat whatsoever contributed greatly to my predicament. We got to my dads pickup and Dad turned on the heat. As I began to thaw we began to talk about our trip. We talked about how much fun we had how we could make things better and when we would go again.
Over the next several years we went on many adventures together. These were magical times for my dad and I. We explored Nordhouse Dunes, South Manitou Island, and finally North Manitou Island. Dad let me be in charge for the most part, I cooked our food, decided where we would camp, and decided what sights we should try and see. When we hiked we were quiet, as Dad called "walking like Indians". He said we would see more nature that way and he was right. We saw deer steps away from us. We saw raccoons, porcupines, Eagles, and Hawks. My dad taught me so much on those trips. He taught me about God and how to worship him in creation. He taught me that although we didn't always enjoy being around people, when we were around them we could enjoy each individual for who they were. He taught me how to stand on a boat when there are huge waves and not get sea sick. He taught me that although watching a sunset is great, waking up in time for a sunrise is magical. I gained so much confidence about myself on those trips, and am so thankful for them.
My dad and I always had a special bond. We always have thought simaler. Dad understood my emotions, which were always a little over the top. He knew how to cheer me up, when no one else could. When he died this past October I was besides myself with grief. The hardest thing was he was always the one who could cheer me up and he wasn't there anymore. Even the whole four years he had cancer and I had to help him with everything he could tell when I was having a bad emotional day and knew just the right things to say to cheer me up. He still gave me advice, still encourage me, and still was there for me. So loosing him was twice as hard, because if I was sad about something Dad could always cheer me up. Then I was sad because he died and he wasn't there to cheer me up. As I have thought about I know what my dad would tell me if he saw me crying about him passing away. He would tell me to find a new river, find a new tree to climb, and to enjoy the life God has given me. Dad enjoyed life, he enjoyed nature and he enjoyed friendships. Even though he is not here to cheer me up, I can enjoy the things that we enjoyed together and remember all the great adventures he and I had.
