Long, long time ago my grand dad died. I was just a little guy. Can hardly remember him. Mostly from photos I am sure. A neighbor who was "old man" to me then, Herman Goldman, sort of adopted me as his "grandbud". I was a bout 10 I guess. That'd be 1958! He loved me like his on kids. And took me hunting every time he went and i could go. We hunting squirrels, which was Mr. Herman's true love. His Rat Terrier dogs were something else ... and had tbhis particular day treed in this huge old pine. Mr. Herman handed me his 22, which was a first for me. And told me to bring that squirrel to the ground. I looked and looked and looked. But for the life of me I could not find the squirrel. He eased down and spoke softlyn in my ear as to not spooke the squirrel. He told me that I did n ot need to look for the squirrel, but look instead for "what ain't tree." I looked that old tree over again and spotted a "knot" about half way out on one of the limbs. Aimed and shot ... and that squirrel fell some 50 feet I guess, dead. I have never fogotten that lesson or that man. I'd bet my bottom dollar that your dad gave you some advice similar ... something about hunting Toms that you will never forget. And that is how he will never be gone. He's not here but rather somewhere else ... better.
Good luck this season and sorry for your loss.