Well Then I'm Happy and Sad For You

The new/old gun I mentioned in the last post is a High-Standard R-102.  It had been my grandfather's gun.  My grandmother recently passed away.  It wasn't entirely unexpected.  She had suffered a stroke and then been in and out of the hospital.  While my mom and aunts were cleaning the house and putting things in order they found the gun.  It was up on a shelf, exactly as my grandfather had left it, with nine rounds in the cylinder.  I wouldn't have expected it to be any other way.

My grandfather carried the .22 on his hip often when we were out in the woods together.  He used it on a couple of rabbit hunts we went on.  When I carefully took aim and shot at the grouse, it occurred to me that this was likely something my grandfather had done many years ago with this same revolver.  Unlike my grandfather I sailed the first two shots right over the grouse's head.  On the third shot I aimed slightly lower and hit my mark and the circle was completed.

It isn't a terribly pretty gun.  The grips are plastic.  It isn't worth a lot of money, and the finish is worn and scratched.  What it is is a tangible connection with my past, my mother's past, my grandfather's past.  I wouldn't part with it for anything.