Once again I find myself thinking of my late son, Steven, and wondering why.
Steven was a coal miner by choice, not necessity. He loved coal mining, and held four certifications. He was very talented, and made more money per year that I could make in four years.
We didn’t encourage or discourage him to be a miner. We left that up to him, even though family members had lost their lives mining coal.
I didn’t have much quality time with my two oldest sons as they grew up due to the fact I worked a mail route six days a week for 14 years. Plus I always raised a big garden so we could put up food for winter.
In recent years, Steven and I became very close, and we talked quite often. If he had something troubling him, he would come to me and we would talk. He was not only my son, he was my best friend, and my buddy.
When we would go on a hunting trip, he always watched over me like a mother hen to make sure I was safe, and we had planned to go on one more hunting trip before the Lord calls me home.
But all our plans and dreams were shattered on Saturday morning at 6:30 on December 15, 2012. We got a call that morning, which no parent ever wants to get.