Toward the end of my father's life, he was ready to let go of his target pistol. I went through all the hoops of obtaining a pistol permit and took possession of his gun. I used it a few times and enjoyed target shooting although I have never had an interest in turning it toward an animal. Now my nephew is ready to adopt it. It came into my life, a bit of memory of my father, and now passes to his grandson. I wonder how many memories go along with it.
