Finding Its Place

We recently were very fortunate to get away.  After the long and winding journey that we all took with my dad, going on another journey was just the thing.  I didn't realize how much I needed it until I was sitting on the bow of a boat that was cruising over the inky black water of the Coral Sea.  Terrified of the water, I stayed there with the wind and the waves and the took in every splash of salt. I had boarded this craft with a hurt and heavy heart.  A hardness had settled in many months ago and no matter the number of prayers said or punches landed on the bag, I insisted on keeping the burden.  But in that wind and chop, it left.  It had no call to stay any longer.

My dad was always a swimmer.  A self described river rat.  He told me a story about how he worked on an underwater project while in the Sea Bees because he could hold is breath for so long.  

I am terrified of water.  Even with many years of swimming lessons, I still cannot swim properly.  The ocean and its unlimited expanse, well, I really didn't want any part of it. When the tide was out, we were able to walk out to the small reef off the shore near our hotel.  I was able to practice snorkling.  At first, I could not figure it out, face in, feet under me and panic.  Repeat.  Then I figured out that if I got my feet out from under me, I could just roll my face into the water.  Panic subsided and I was able to do it.  Snorkling in waist deep water was relatively calm compared to my emotions the following day.

The next day we took the boat trip out to the Great Barrier Reef.  Danny was going to dive and I was left to snorkle with a group of strangers.  On the second snorkle, I found my rythym and was able to just take it all in.  I thought about my grandma seeing this world with me.  A world I am sure neither of us could ever imagine seeing.  And then silently, I thanked my mom for those early morning Bever pool swimming lessons.
The sensation came over me and I knew that my dad was there.  I could have looked to my left and seen him swimming with me.  The dad of my late teens and early twenties.  When he still had dark in his hair and a lively step.  I could see him in those white shorts and just a mask because after all, he could hold his breath.   I didn't look.  But sure as the coral and the zebra fish, he was there.  I had to come up out of the water.  It is hard to have tears in a snorkle mask.
This was my secret.  That he was there.

It was on the trip back to the island that I let it all go.  Danny, always my staunchest protector and friend, let me be.  He brought me snacks and hugs and silent support.  He was fiercely proud of me getting in the ocean but even more so, that I was able to let go and come to terms with a great many emotions.
I have to be at peace with my relationships.  I cannot do a damn thing about my relationship with my parents.  I don't know if my dad ever truly forgave me for moving away so many times.  I don't know that he could accept that taking a job in Des Moines was a better move for our family than waiting for a job in Cedar Rapids.  I don't know that I could ever get over that he couldn't get over the path I followed.  None of that matters now.  The coral sea has those feelings now.  There is no going back.

The title of this is Finding Its Place.  As I continue to write this (having started several months ago) I am figuring out what Its is.  And Its is many different emotions. Its the five stages of grief.   Grief for my dad.  Grief for ever altered relationships.  I read about the five stages and realized that I did not follow the order and experienced several of the stages before my dad ever died.  In fact, with his long, roller coaster journey, the five stages were revisited over and over.  I had come to terms with his death many times before he died but when he did, it was such a shock that I could not process it at all.  I remember Sheila and I sitting in his room at the care center after he had his stroke.  We were neck deep in denial.  The timing was so unfair.  Our anger, I don't know who it was directed at for anyone else, but I was so pissed at God.  It was such a son of a bitch move on His part.  I had no bargain to make.  Ashlyn was not able to come home for a week so I knew that there was no hope in her seeing him alive again.  Isaac was on his way home and it tore my heart open that he could make it and Ashlyn could not.  I could not process that jealousy that I was feeling, nearly the rage at the injustice of it.  That jealousy was one of the Its.  I tucked that jealousy in my heart.  It wanted to fester.  I don't know that I went through a depression stage, I think that darkness came and went while Dad was in the hospital during those awful days of February and March.
The final stage is acceptance.  I think I found acceptance earlier than expected and easier as well.  The moment we shared at the Great Barrier Reef was indescribable.  And all mine.  I didn't want to leave that water, that moment.  I tucked it in my heart and it immediately began to grow to push out the jealousy, the hurt and the hard.  I am grateful for that moment with Dad in the ocean and that moment with God on the bow of the boat.  My dads continually letting me know that its alright.