Healing Adventures

Some of you may have noticed the absence of a column from me last week. I was finally traveling with family and close friends (after a year’s postponement) to Alaska to fulfill my dad’s final wishes. He had two, actually. One was to be able to die at home, which he did, and the second was to have his ashes spread at a fishing hole he and my stepmom visited for the last 25 years before he passed away.

More than having his ashes spread, I think his wish was to have us all together in a place he truly loved. There were family members who didn't make the trip. For whatever reasons they couldn’t, which, for the record, really doesn’t sit well with me. But those were their decisions, not mine.

For those of us who did make the trip, we not only had a really good time doing something my -dad loved, in a place he loved – and made a point of going to each year – we bonded, we told stories, we remembered, and we honored him.

My dad was a special person who touched many lives while he was here. It was even more evident to me during this trip. The owners of the lodge where we stayed have been in business for 30 years now. Their children were little when my parents first started going there. Those children are all grown up now, but they remember my dad, always smiling, each year he was there, even when they were kids.

The captain of our charter boat, Captain John, had been taking my parents out on the boat for years. He was able to take us again this year. My dad always talked about Captain John and what a wonderful person he was. This trip, I got to hear from him what a good person my dad was. There are twenty some years of stories to be told, and while I didn’t hear them all, I heard enough to know my dad had an impact on these people. He meant something to them, and they miss him.

Now. it’s no secret that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I see and feel things very deeply, and I cry often. This trip was no exception to those emotions. I felt and experienced things I’ve been burying since my dad died.

When we arrived at the lodge, Friday afternoon, I cried. I was so angry because this was a trip my dad and I were supposed to make while he was still alive. He talked about bringing me there and fishing with me, and here I was, alone so to speak, and he wasn’t there. You see, my dad taught me to fish when I was really young. I was six or seven when he took me on my first fishing excursion on a small boat on Vail Lake in Temecula, California. We camped there often, and every time we did, he would take me and my brother fishing. We’d catch little Sunny fish, some Rainbow Trout, and others. I learned to bait a hook, catch fish, reel them in, and I smiled every time. As I recall, he smiled each time my brother or I caught fish too.

But here I was in this place in Alaska he promised to bring me to, and he wasn’t there to smile when I caught a fish. Technically, he did take me to Alaska to go fishing, but I felt cheated. So I sat by a fire pit on the deck by myself and knitted and cried.

Then, one of the crew shouted that there were whales coming up the Narrows. I’m told this doesn’t happen often, but there they were, a pod of five Orcas showing off right in front of me, breaching, sounding, and waving with their tails. As crazy it may sound to some of you, there’s this part of me that thinks my dad sent them - to distract me and remind me of the beauty and things around me.

I was able to enjoy everything around me. While we were on the boat the next morning, we caught fish, heard and saw Humpback whales, saw sea otters floating on their backs, heard sea lions in the distance, caught more fish, told more stories, shared more memories, spread his ashes, and I think we healed a little.

Suddenly, I wasn’t as angry anymore - but I was still sad. By filling my dad’s final wishes, it felt like I was letting him go - finally - and if I let him go, where would he be? The answer swept over me quickly as soon as the thought of the question entered my mind…he would be right here, always, with me and part of me. I needed this trip as much as he did, and honestly, I think he knew that before he passed away. He knew we, as a family and close friends, needed it.

So, for those of you who have lost people you love, people you cared about or meant something great to you, I hope these words help. Even when you feel alone, even when you’re sad, or even angry because those people aren’t physically here with you, if you close your eyes, if you remember the good, they are right there with you, in your heart and are never lost. You never have to wonder where they are because they are right there, always, with you.