And Daddy Walked…

Daddy dreamed of sailboats.  And he walked.

His first taste of adult freedom was joining the Navy at the tail end of WWII.  He served in the Pacific.  He didn’t speak a lot about it, but when he did, you could hear a mix of pride, hard realism, and gratitude to have made it home whole.  He came home with a lifelong love of boats.  And the sea.  And he walked.

Twenty years or so into their marriage, Momma got cancer and a 6-month death sentence.  I think it jolted Daddy to the core.  It must have.  For he packed the family up–Momma, my younger brother, and me (the two older siblings were in college)–and moved us from New York to Florida.  He bought a franchise to build ferro-cement boats.  We lived on an island in the Intercoastal Waterway.  The half we lived on used to be a junk yard and the other half had an old fish camp and boat ramp on it.

And Momma healed.

Daddy’s cement boat business did not float, so he started selling power boats instead.  My little brother and I swam in that water, helped scrape barnacles off of boat hulls while alligators uttered their oddly distinct croak in the swamp on the other shore.  We also made lifelong friends of the one couple who did buy a set of sailboat plans and built their beautiful hull in front of our trailer (if steel can float, why not cement?  think about it!).

The motorboats didn’t sell too well either.  But Momma did great.  And Daddy was living his dream, or at least the version of it that he was able, within the constraints of his family, his responsibilities.

Yes, Daddy dreamed of sailboats.  And he walked.

He eventually gave up on the Florida venture, moved back North for a job in credit counseling, and continued to keep an eye on Momma, who had a relapse and some difficult treatment–the radiation burned most of one of her lungs–but she managed to pull through that time.

We lost Momma to her third bout with cancer 20 years after her first battle had been won.  As I look back on it now, I realize the huge impact Daddy had on the course of her struggle, her war, her victories, her defeat.

Daddy walked with Momma every step of the way.  Not only did he not give up, he lead them on a path few others would have chosen, let alone imagined.  A path that lead to a dream, that took one’s mind off of harsh medical realities and focused energies on new challenges, new places, new friends.

And Momma healed.  Even though the doctors had given her six months to live.  Daddy had not told her that part until much, much later, when it looked like the battle was safely won.  Yes, it turned out there was still a second, then a third battle to fight.  But she made it twenty years–not six months–twenty years!

Yes, Daddy dreamed of sailboats, and he walked.

After Momma passed, Daddy moved from Cleveland to the DC suburbs where my younger brother and I had settled.  When I got married, he bought my DC condominium that overlooked the Virginia skyline across the Potomac River.  And he walked and he walked and he walked.

One of his favorite walks was to the Southwest waterfront just two blocks away.  With its marina.  Full of sailboats.

Daddy’s memory finally deteriorated so badly that he was no longer safe living on his own.  His was probably one of the slowest descents into Alzheimer’s I’ve ever heard of.  My siblings and I had been concerned about him even when Momma was still with us, but the signs were so vague (yet nagging) that we all pushed the issue into the background as long as we could.

I think he knew, though, and that was one reason why he moved near his children after losing Momma.

Ten, fifteen, twenty years after Momma passed… Daddy was still dreaming of sailboats.  And walking.

When he left his Assisted Living Facility for a long walk down a busy neighborhood highway, the police found him a few miles up the highway and brought him back.  He was at a grocery store parking lot.  Looking at the boats.  It was real to him.  And they were so beautiful.  I can still see the happiness on his face as he described them to me.

They gave us a week to find another place for Daddy to live.  It was locked.  Daddy didn’t walk much there.  What was the point?

Daddy passed twenty years after Momma.  I hope they have found each other again, in spirit.  I hope they have a lovely view of a marina full of beautiful, elegant sailboats.  Now that illness and familial responsibilities no longer tether them to an earthen path, I hope they are sailing away in one of those boats–it would have to be a wooden hull… or cement!–relishing a delightful, salty breeze, the sun warming their faces, their love and their dreams fulfilled.

(6-15-14 in loving memory of my father, WDD)

Great Grandfather’s Rocker

Do you think that somehow there are laws totally outside of physics that allow pieces of ourselves, our love, our memories to permeate physical objects or places?  Not unlike how the love and experiences we share with everyone we touch leaves an imprint on their heart, in their mind… a sign we’ve been there…

That would explain ghosts, perhaps.  Some mental link or an extraordinarily powerful emotion, or even something small–a hope or a dream–permeates a place, an object to such a degree that a fragment of soul, an echo of spirit lingers there.  And even after its creator’s death, from generation through generation, it can be reawakened and shared anew by a touch… a memory… a tear…

On Bears and Muffins

A dear friend mentioned recently that she is facing her fear of public speaking by speaking in front of a church group she attends.  She was so happy that it truly made a difference in getting over that fear.  This reminded me of how powerful a tool that is.  Take your specific fear and do it, again and again.  You go, girl!

I fear snakes, and bears, and spiders.  So here I am… planning to leave my nice solid home and head off into the wilds.

I fear other dogs attacking my dog, Dawny, or Dawny attacking another dog.  This has gotten so bad that I rarely take her for walks any more and just let her get her exercise in our fenced yard.  So off we go… in an 8×24 foot home where frequent dog walks outside of our tiny, safe abode will be a necessity as constant as a revolving door.

I fear getting hurt by other humans.  So… I’ve left the brick fortress I’ve hidden in for so many years and am venturing into a world with shifting, invisible, and even nonexistent boundaries, populated by total strangers.

Sounds a bit crazy.

Until you realize that ax murderers and others of their sort come in all shapes and sizes and faces, and you never truly know if you have had one under your very own roof or even in your bed for years.  After all, those horrible perpetrators of gruesome crimes usually have a family of some sort, back home, in their own safe fortress.

And Dawny may well blossom in this mobile lifestyle, and acclimate to her new social life and its attendant expectations.  She may rise to meet her own challenges with an uncommon grace (can you hear the hope in my voice?).

As for snakes, bears, and spiders, just look at those stories you see once in a while of someone discovering a gigantic snake in their toilet or in their cellar!  And consider those poor bears who have found it necessary to invade suburbia, breaking into brick houses for that honey nutt muffin or fresh baked blueberry pie.

Yep, best to just face those fears down, because whether you are standing–frozen–or moving with the wind, they will find you.  For they live with you, right there in your heart.

You go, girl!