Yesterday was Father’s day. I have never been a fan of these “holidays” (to me, every day is Father’s, Mother’s and love day!), but yesterday it felt more significant to me. Maybe because I was inundated with all of the Father’s day energy around my life and on social media, which reminded me that for the first time in my life, on Father’s day, I didn’t have a dad.

I haven’t written in this blog since I left last year to go and live with my father to help care for him in the last months of his life. He passed away on February 14, 2020. It was one of the greatest honors of my life to be by his side in his last months and especially when he took his last breath on this earthly plane. My heart broke in a million pieces that night, but I have also been flooded with gratitude for the gift of having had this amazing, dynamic man as my dad for 52 years.

Fast-forward 4 months, and here I am, back in my life finally, with a place of my own again, in the midst of a pandemic, and riding the twisty roller coaster of grief. During my long absence from my life here, Cassiopeia sat patiently awaiting my return. She has not missed a beat, and is being patient with me as I get my sailing chops back up, and find my sea legs again. The last couple of years brought some physical challenges for me, so on top of being rusty, it has been a journey to get my strength and mobility back up to speed. I am getting there!

Yesterday, I decided that the best way to honor my Pop, and also myself, was to head out on a sail. Apart from going to Catalina a couple of times, I hadn’t done a solo sail in a long time. It was a beautiful day, and just frisky enough that I took a reef early on. My girl is a powerhouse, and I have learned that reefing conservatively is the best recipe, especially if I am alone. We tacked away from the Sunday traffic and got in our groove on a starboard tack, honking along at 7-8 knots. We headed south and found ourselves on a perfect course for my favorite island getaway. I seriously almost kept on going, but after a couple of hours decided to turn back to my slip and my life on land. As I sailed out to sea, I spoke with my Pop. I thanked him for the gift of sailing and for my adventurous spirit. I asked him if he was ok with my sail trim and general state of affairs aboard my boat, and also shared my heart. I like to think he was there with me as I ate my smoked oysters and toasted him with a cold beer. He was the king of weird boat food, so I thought it appropriate to have a little snack in his honor. As I turned back for Marina Del Rey, the wind started to mellow to about 10-11 knots, so I shook out my reef and reached my way home. I was graced by tons of dolphins, seagulls and pelicans…perfect companions for my dad and me on the home stretch. I took the helm for a good long time, and sat in his (and my) favorite spot on the leeward rail. I imagined all of the times throughout my life that we sailed together in silence, with no need for words. Our unspoken mutual love and appreciation for each other and the energy of the boat and the sea was enough for us.

When I got back to the slip, I put on some tunes and commenced the ritual of putting my boat away. For me, one of the greatest joys of boat ownership and sailing is puttering around the boat. As I methodically tended to all that needed to be done, I could hear my dad’s commentary from all of our times over my lifetime doing the same on his boats. He loved puttering, and oddly, puttering on my boat is the time that I feel the most like he is with me. He would always say that there is nothing better than messing about in boats, his nod to the famous line from The Wind in the Willows:

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

I will always carry him with me, especially as I careen over the sea with the wheel in my hand and the breeze in my face. I can feel him in me in those moments as if he is looking out of my own eyes. I always knew from the look on his face as he steered his vessel, that we shared the exact same deep satisfaction and bliss that can only come from looking out over the horizon from the helm of a sailboat.

I love you Pop!

Sailing out of Santa Monica Bay

Reaching home