Gone Fishin'

Gone Fishin'. It's a sign that any of us up here in the North Country could hang on our door year round. Whether it's trout, pike, bass, northern, or crappie fishing, you’re bound to have a favorite. Trout was Jon’s favorite. Jon was one of my husband’s best friends and subsequently one of mine. We’ve known Jon for years, Todd longer of course, but I treasured his friendship just the same. He was the first person to befriend me when I moved to the north country. Jon took his life recently, for reasons we’ll never understand. In fact, it was the eve of my 40th birthday party. Jon, you were supposed to come celebrate with us and stay overnight "in the spare bedroom" as requested. You never came. As I write this post the tears flow. Not a post I could ever imagine writing, but one that I feel the need to tell nonetheless. For Jon represented so many things to me as a person, all things of which tie back to nature and most importantly fishing. To me, Jon represented a quiet strength, a solitude, and most of all sunshine.

As I've mentioned, Jon loved to hunt and fish - he loved the outdoors. He’d go anywhere - the family cabin, cottage, area lakes (especially the secret ones Todd told him never to share with anyone). He and I hit it off because we shared that same love, as many of us in these parts do. Jon wasn’t a superior hunter or fisherman by any means, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t the best. He was the best in the sense that he had a pure love of the sport, its way of life, and a respect for it. Something not every outdoorsman has, but a trait I insist that any person I spend time in the field with honors. This strength came from within, a strength that I wish more people knew he truly had. It comes from your core being that is void of arrogance, jealousy, hatred, ignorance. Jon wasn’t one to puff up his chest and turn every outdoor adventure into a competition…he just went along quietly, enjoying every moment for what it was, with the company he kept, nature, himself. A quiet strength.

Solitude. It's one of the reasons we live up here in the North Country. Here, the forests and lakes are peaceful and calm. They stand quiet. They have centuries of stories they could tell, but they keep their secrets to themselves.  I never knew Jon to say a bad word about anyone…not even those who deserved it. His soulful solitude was his gift. His calm demeanor made you feel at ease; loved. This is what I miss the most.

The sun in the north woods, especially when it lights up the red and yellow maple leaves in the fall, is brilliant. Jon had a smile that could do the same. It would light up a room the moment he walked into it. It seems to be the cliché thing to say about a person after one passes from this world, but if you knew Jon and had ever been in a crowd of people with him you would know what I am talking about. He had the best smile, a true ray of sunshine.

Jon wasn't perfect. None of us are. I have no delusions about this fact. But Jon was special to Todd and to me. Dearest Jon, I want to say I wish you knew how much you are missed, but I'm quite certain you know. I know that I will still see you each day...in the strength of the tall white pines, the crystal blue lakes, the babbling waters of the trout stream, the lonesome call of the loon. I know you are there. I can feel you. I know you have gone fishin', and that's how I want to remember you. I see you smiling. I hear you laughing. I feel your presence. You were very loved, you are very missed, and will forever be in our hearts.

Tight lines my friend, until we see you on the flip side.

Love, Paula
XOXO