Today, I drove up to Joshua’s fishing spot.
On the way there, I was taken aback by the beauty of the slightly changing colors of summer melting into fall. I was reminded of just how good his taste was. He loved this part of Arkansas and every season shows me another reason why.
The leaves are just beginning to shift into their bright golds and fiery reds. The hills and valleys carve out a landscape worthy of a canvas, every curve and ridge lit by the soft October sun. It’s the kind of beauty that makes you breathe a little deeper… and ache a little harder.
When I reached the river, it hit me like a punch to the chest. The water was so low, revealing the rocks and river grass that were underwater just a couple of months ago. And all I could think about was how much I wished I could look up and see him there, waist-deep in the current, waders on, rod and reel in his hands, so sure of himself in a way he always was.
That river was his peace and today, it was my heartbreak.
I walked out into a space where the water covered on my last visit, where I know he once stood so alive and focused and happy. My feet crushed the damp river grass and I sat there for a while, watching the birds skim across the water and the fishermen casting downstream.
The air was crisp and cool, the kind of air he loved, and the breeze coming off the river brushed against my face like a memory. I wore his flannel and his Columbia T-shirt today. I guess it’s the closest thing I have now to one of his hugs.
Every single day, my heart aches to see him, to hug him, to hear him.
Even my noisy life is so quiet here and it’s obvious why he loved it so much. I think being here brings me closer to him.
