Fulfilling Our Father’s Final Wish

Heading out to sea on an overcast Saturday morning, I braced myself for what I anticipated would be a rough ride.  The size of the swells was only part of what had my stomach doing flip flops.  The bigger source of anxiety was the fact that this trip was scheduled as a farewell to my father, fulfilling one of his final wishes to have his ashes spread at sea.

We waited 18 months for this trip.  He made it clear he wanted this to happen in late May or early June, “when the color of the sky is the color of the sea, when the dolphin are running”.  He died in August and last May my brothers, sisters, mom and I weren’t ready.

I don’t know that you’re ever really ready for a trip like this.  A year later, two years, ten years.  It seems the loss is just too much to ever really absorb.

In fact, I almost didn’t make this trip.  I told myself my daddy would understand that I’ve been an emotional wreck lately. I was afraid this would be the thing that pushed me overboard, literally.

But I reminded myself my dad was always there for me.  I couldn’t let him down on this last request.

So, as I climbed aboard for the hour plus trip out to the spot where he had requested to be put to rest, I settled in with the peace of knowing I was where I needed to be.  The seas made it a bumpy ride, but the concern and amusement at my mother’s reaction to the ride kept my mind off our mission.  I remembered, with each jolt, it was my father who loved being on the water.  My mother, not so much.

We rode to an area several miles off shore, then dropped some lines to troll for fish.  It’s what daddy wanted.  And wouldn’t you know it, the first line with a bite was my younger sister’s, the one who owned the boat we were on and who Daddy had shared his final intentions with.   The sun was shining bright by this point and it was fun to see her in her element, knowing Dad would have been just as excited about the tug on the line as we were.

It wasn’t long before my oldest brother felt a nibble, too.  And the fish on his line was the dolphin (the Mahi-Mahi kind, not the Flipper kind) that my father had referred to.  My other brother caught one, too.  And then my sister’s husband.  We knew our father was sending the good fortune our way, right along with the gorgeous weather.

When it came time to spread his ashes, it was hard holding it together.  We had yellow roses, his favorite, and mom brought along two orchid blossoms in his honor.  He was a master at growing orchids.  He was a master at so many things.

So, with a prayer from my brother and Jimmy Buffett playing softly in the background, my sisters and I stood at the side of the boat and watched as we fulfilled his final wish, watching the ashes blend into the water and dropping our flowers among them.  The emotions overpowered each of us, especially with my mother so obviously distraught.

We knew he wouldn’t have wanted the tears, but he also knew we were far from perfect.  We cried because of the sadness we’ve experienced in feeling his death, knowing how hard it’s been accepting his loss, even a year and a half later, and wishing he could magically appear by our side again, no longer suffering, though.

Seeing the ashes in the water I wanted to jump in with them.  I let my hand skim the surface of the water, imagining I was somehow touching him again.

He was touching me.  In my heart, in my soul, in the wind on my cheek.

He really is part of the ocean now.

He will always be part of me.