Lost Fathers and Found Rifles

Decades ago, as a young man, I was forced to make a tough decision. To save our family home, I sold my deceased father's deer rifle. To this day, I remember that it was a pre-64 Model 70 Featherweight Winchester .243 with a Leupold scope. The stock had been oiled and finished by my father's own hand. His hands had cradled it while taking aim at many deer. It was his favorite, and one of the few material things left to me over the course of my fatherless childhood.

I got a fair price. A gunsmith friend of my father's advertised the rifle in Shotgun News and it sold to someone in Colorado. He tried to convince me not to sell, but with an overdue mortgage on my young shoulders and a mother in long term care, I felt I had no choice. I wanted to save our family home so she would have the hope of coming home. Because I traded my inheritance for my mother's hope, I never regretted selling the rifle.

Today, now that I am older, I know I had other options. I don't blame myself though, I chose the best path I knew of at the time. Still, sometimes I wish I could hold that rifle again. That's why this story posted at The Drawn Cutlass struck such a chord with me. Material things should not hold such value, but when they are the link to episodes of our lives that make us who we are, they do.