As I looked back on 2021, I was excited it was finally coming to an end. I sat at home thinking of the challenges my family and I had faced and the lessons that came from each and every one of them. The year started off with excitement for my family. My parents were presented with an opportunity to become the new owners of Butler Mobil, a gas station in Flagstaff, Arizona. I was proud of them for taking on this challenge during the pandemic and at the ages of 56 and 58. As if starting a new career and opening a small business together was not hard enough, 2021 came with some unexpected challenges that would really strengthen the Gregory family.
In January 2021, I became sick with COVID-19 and was off work for two weeks. During those two weeks, I received a phone call from my grandma who was in a panic, stating she could not breathe. This was very unlike her, and I immediately became concerned and called 911. She ended up going to the emergency room where my girlfriend, Courtney, works and was admitted and treated for massive heart failure. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, I was unable to see my grandmother for the next couple months as she fought for her life. The next two months were a blur as I was concerned I would never see my grandmother again. After several cardiac-related surgeries, infection, amputation, and many days of fighting, my grandmother succumbed to her illness and passed away on April 8, 2021. My last words to her over the phone were, “Don’t worry, Grandma, you’ll be fine. I love you.” I will never forget that because I still feel as if I lied to her.
Six weeks after my grandmother’s death, on May 26th, I got a phone call from my father at around 7 a.m. He sounded altered, and I could not understand what he was saying. I immediately told him to sit down and hang up the phone. I called my mother to notify her of the phone call I had received. She then found my father in the gas station’s cooler, confused and unable to speak. He was transported to the emergency room where we found out he had had a stroke. Fortunately, my father recovered and has minimal deficiencies from his stroke. I was able to visit him on my days off. For about a month, things finally seemed to slow down for the Gregory family. This was perfect timing because my sister was getting ready to have her first baby.
I am currently a Phoenix Firefighter/Paramedic and was assigned to Engine 11 on June 17, 2021. Late that afternoon, we were dispatched to an apartment fire. We all got on the truck and responded to what seemed to be a normal, “run of the mill” fire. About 10 minutes after being dispatched, I found myself in the back of an ambulance being transported to the local burn unit. I had received second and third degree burns to my hands, wrists, ears, face, and neck. I spent the night in the burn unit where my burns were cleaned, debrided, and bandaged before my girlfriend was able to take me home. Unable to use my hands, I was incapable of cleaning or bathing myself, which brought a lot of new challenges. Thanks for the help, Courtney!
The next day, I received a phone call from my parents who were unaware of my injuries and who had called to tell me my sister was going into labor. They were headed down to the valley to meet their first granddaughter. About three hours later, I received a phone call from my brother-in-law who said my sister, Nikki, was having an emergency C-section, but I was not told why. After two hours of the unknown, I received a picture of my beautiful niece, Brielle, being held by my sister with a text message saying everyone was OK and healthy. At that time, I figured it may be a good idea to call my parents and let them know of my injuries. Like most mothers, as soon as I told my mom what happened, she began crying and came over immediately to make sure I was OK. Later, we all went over to my sister’s house where we waited to meet the newest addition to our family
About a month went by and my father called to talk to me about his upcoming elk hunt. He mentioned that he had a biopsy scheduled for something that showed up on a scan during his stroke. About six weeks after that phone call, my father called me once again and told me he had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer and needed surgery to remove his thyroid immediately. I asked if that meant he would have to cancel his elk hunt. He responded, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I knew my father was concerned for his health, and I knew we needed to make sure this hunt was something we would never forget.
I thought of how I could really make this trip a success, so I started asking several outfitters about scouting packages as it was all I would be able to afford. I then reached out to a good friend of mine, Junior Vincente, (who is also a Phoenix Firefighter) and told him about the year my family and I had had along with asking for any advice on this specific hunt. That is when he offered me something I could not believe. Due to our circumstances and my father’s declining health, Junior offered us to camp with him and the rest of the Big Chino crew and offered to hunt with us in hopes of having a successful harvest. When I told him I would not be able to afford that, he responded, “Who said I was going to charge you?” I informed my dad of the generous gift we were given, and we were excited for the upcoming hunt.
Several days before opening day, my father and I set up camp along with the BCO crew and began some last-minute glassing. Opening morning came, and with much anticipation and excitement, we covered a decent amount of ground. After glassing for several hours with no bulls or much activity, we moved to a different part of the unit for the night. My father glassed up a big 5x5 but had no opportunity for a shot as it was becoming dark.
The next several days were very similar. With hot temperatures and bulls not yet in their winter zones, it made for a lot of hiking and a lot of glassing with not much reward. We knew these late hunts were a grind, so we stuck with it. Monday, Junior split up from my father and me so we could cover more ground. Junior was a couple miles south of us, and we were working the side of a canyon that we hoped held some bulls. After working this side of the canyon, it was about 8 a.m. My father and I found a good vantage point to sit and glass, and within five minutes, my father picked up a bull coming off the top of the canyon running right towards us. That bull covered 1,000 yards in about three minutes, which seemed like 10 seconds when we were trying to look for a steady rest, find ranges, and get ready to execute a good shot. This canyon was super thick, so we lost the bull until it popped out about 100 yards right below us. Without hesitation, I whispered to my dad, “When you’re ready, take the shot.” Boom! The shot was true, and I watched the bull fall. Beyond excited, we went over to recover the animal.
Junior called and asked if that was us who shot and said he would be over soon to help with the pack out. Standing over this beautiful animal, I realized 13 years ago nearly to the day I harvested my first bull on this same hunt with my dad. I remember how emotional I was that day because I was able to create a memory that would last a lifetime with him. Thirteen years later, I thought about all we had been through during those years, especially this last one.
That’s when it hit me. I realized that no matter what happens, we still have each other and our shared memories and passion for the outdoors, which is more valuable to me than anything I can imagine. At 27 years old, I ran over to my father and hugged him tighter than ever. No words were said because we both knew how special this moment was. Sitting around the bull with my father and tears rolling down both our faces, I knew we had successfully made this hunt something we would never forget.
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