Dad's last surprise purchase

[redneck2]

We need to understand that there are many things we never actually own. We simply rent them, have the luxury of using them, and then they pass on for another to use and enjoy

My home was owned by someone before me, and will be owned by multiple someones after me. The land has been owned and sold many times over.

You should remember your father fondly. One of the saddest things is someone who passes and no one cares.

As the song from the group Kansas says, “all we are is dust in the wind”

 

[Whiskeyhotel2020]

The old man and I had our share of disagreements and spells of silence. But I have no regrets and will always cherish the fact he was my father/dad.

 

[Whiskeyhotel2020]

Whiskeyhotel2020. My condolences on the loss of your father. It's funny how an inanimate object can hold such intense memories, isn't it? I just lost my daughter in early July 2020. She had just purchased her first pistol, not the first owned, just the first on her own. It's a Sig P365, she took after the old man a bit. She never got the chance to shoot it. It's hard for me to even handle it without the memories of how excited she was to go pick it up. That evening after she got home she had me walk her through the operation and a detailed cleaning. I made her a holster that I didn't have a chance to give her. She would have liked it.

We had plans to go shooting after the July 4th weekend. She was so excited about it. She was my primary shooting partner of most of her short life. I haven't been able to go shooting since. I miss her terribly, but I will get out there and wring out that 365 for her. I have one of my own but hers is on the "Never Sell" list.

Just need to get out and bust some of those "Tar-Gots" (long story, been posted here, somewhere)

Thank you for sharing your story. I'm sorry for your loss.

 

[whughett]

Wife and I have a will. Last to go takes all, except what’s in the gun safe Guns and knives collection goes to three sons, it’s a considerable collection, how they divi it up I’ll not be knowing.

 

[psyopspec]

Whiskeyhotel2020. My condolences on the loss of your father. It's funny how an inanimate object can hold such intense memories, isn't it? I just lost my daughter in early July 2020. She had just purchased her first pistol, not the first owned, just the first on her own. It's a Sig P365, she took after the old man a bit. She never got the chance to shoot it. It's hard for me to even handle it without the memories of how excited she was to go pick it up. That evening after she got home she had me walk her through the operation and a detailed cleaning. I made her a holster that I didn't have a chance to give her. She would have liked it.

We had plans to go shooting after the July 4th weekend. She was so excited about it. She was my primary shooting partner of most of her short life. I haven't been able to go shooting since. I miss her terribly, but I will get out there and wring out that 365 for her. I have one of my own but hers is on the "Never Sell" list.

Just need to get out and bust some of those "Tar-Gots" (long story, been posted here, somewhere)

What a terrible loss. If you’re willing, do you have a favorite memory of her you could share?

 

[psyopspec]

Whiskey, thanks for this thread sharing a bit about what your father was like, and the role that gun collecting played in your relationship. If the writing is good for you I hope you’ll do more of it.

After reading this I’ll be giving my dad a call today.

 

[Sniper66]

First off let me just say this post is lengthy I wanted to do the memory justice.I appreciate being able to share stories about some of the firearms I inherited from my dad. He's been gone for a year now and being able to share the history behind the firearms I got from him has really helped lately.

My dad had a very large collection at the time he passed. I don't know how many times he would say that he wanted to have a huge yard sale. We would laugh because it would rival some of the gun shows we've been to. Between his holster collection to the sheer number of firearms and related accessories. It would always come down to him telling me that my brothers and I need to get to the house so we could discuss what was to be done when he died. Other times he'd just tell me that my brothers and I would have our choice of one rifle one shotgun and one handgun and the rest of the collection gets sold off. Then he'd tell me that he was thinking of just splitting everything into thirds and "you boys will do whatever with 'em." I would simply tell him that however he wanted it was fine by me. That usually got followed by his, "yeah right if you had it your way you'd get them all." Truth is I would give them all up if I could just talk to him one more time.

My dad used to call about once a month. Usually when he hadn't heard from me. The conversation would always start with "You'll never guess what I just picked up." He would try not to tell me but by the time we'd hang up I'd know what his latest treasure was. Well, the very last phone call I got from him was months and months from the last time we spoke. I figured he was upset with a decision that I made and he disagreed with or something. I would stop in and say hi but wasn't able to stay long. It turns out he thought he lost my number. Well, he was reading a book for the second or third time and found the paper he wrote my number on being used as a book mark. We had a great laugh and then out came the usual phrase followed by a list a firearms that I needed to come over and see. Only this time when we hung up he held out. He told me he got something that I'd never expect. The only clue he gave me was that it was old new. My mind instantly starting picturing reproductions of Winchesters, single action revolvers, various Browning's. Never in a million years would I have guessed the gem he would proudly pull out the next time I was home for a visit. It wasn't under the best circumstance that brought me home that morning. My dad listened to the problem that i was having and just reassured me that he and mom had my back.

As we talked about the latest going on with my younger brothers, the last cute thing the cat did, the outcome of his last VA appointment, I was looking at his last few purchases. A Browning A5 circa 1956, a reproduction of a Highwall in 38-55, an engraved Remington 700 in 22-250, and another Winchester model 12 12 gauge. Dad reached over and pulled a brown rectangle box off a shelf and declared,"This is the most expensive firearm and only absolute safe queen he has ever bought." The box had a printed wood grain pattern that I recognized even without seeing the word Colt printed in the center. My mind instantly guessed that a pretty SAS was inside. Dad opened the box reveling a beautiful blued 6 inch Python. All original paperwork including the test target. He picked it up at a gun show. It was made In the 70's and had never left the the gun shop shelf. Thats right unfired (outside the factory) never owned by anyone other than the gun shop shelf it went to and my dad. It was the last firearm my dad ever brought home and the last time I would hear "I'm not telling you what I picked up since the last time." He sent into the hospital two days later. The three of us boys got to pick a rifle, a shotgun, and a handgun (I'm sure I'll post those stories at some point). Mom didn't like firearms when she met my dad, tolerated them while they shared there lives together, she kept only 1 of dad's guns and that is that legendary snake gun. Not because of monetary value but because that was the last time she remembers him excited (like a kid in a toy store inside a candy store on Christmas morning. Thank you again for the kindness and patience all of you have shown. I'm happy that I can be part of this site.

Thanks for sharing your heart-warming story. The attachment to tangible objects helps us maintain the fleeting intangibles; in this case, the love of a father. I have an old, worn-out Iver Johnson single-shot 410 that was left to me when my dad died. The gun, no longer functional, hangs on the wall of my den/gun room. It's attached to a piece of weathered barn board with an inscription engraved on a brass plate that says, "To my dad, who gave the love of squirrel hunting to all 4 of his sons.."
The back story is that my dad who was 11-12 at the time, was sent by his dad to help an ailing neighbor; a custom that was typical when Dad helped Sy Daugh with his harvest around 1915. One dad's "chores" was to find meat for supper. So with the 410 in hand he would go down to the corn crib and shoot 2-3 squirrels, then, after cleaning them, he'd turn them over to Sy's wife to cook. When the summer harvest was done, dad returned home to go to school. Wages were not paid since dad's labor was a gift between neighbors. However, Sy was grateful for the help and gave my dad the 410 as an expression of his gratitude. All of my brothers and I learned to shoot with that 410. Got my first squirrel with it when I was 8. But, that's another story.