sweet story. reminds me of my mom's ex (my sort of step dad). he is the one who taught me how to fly fish and i never really appreciated how much i learned from him. they broke up soon after i moved out of the house. i still kept in touch more so as i got older and less teenager stupid.
the day i caught my first fish on the fly, a little grayling in quarry lake 4 years ago, i called him. he was really excited for me and we talked fishing and how we would get out. he lived in vancouver and i was here. he was planning on coming out the following summer to stay with his sister and do some fishing. he made it out the next summer but was only in town for a day, but promised the next summer he was coming back for a month. sadly, he had a stroke that fall and passed away a month later.
i still think about him when i am on the river. every glass of scotch, every fish and every cigar is toasted in his memory.