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April 26, 2007
Searching For Peace
My dad died a year ago while on vacation with my mom on the Galapagos Islands, off the coast of Ecuador.
I've listened to my mother's stories. I've studied at all the photos that were on my dad's camera. I sorted through the backpack that my dad had with him that day. I absorb every little detail that I can. While I do know the story of his death, this isn't the information that I necessarily seek. I seek to know the details of the last day of his life.
It was a Friday. The day was warm and sunny, just like every day of their vacation. In the morning, Zodiac boats brought my mom and dad ashore one of the remote Galapagos Islands. They hiked around some beautiful black cliffs, upon which a turquoise ocean crashed in energetic wave displays, on the windward side of the island. They bird-watched lots of different bird species in a huge series of nesting colonies along these sea clliffs. My dad was fascinated with the Blue-Footed Boobies, which are endemic to these islands. My mom and dad watched one particular Blue-Footed Boobie who was sitting and standing near its ground nest and its egg for a long time. A Zodiac boat brought them to a beach on the opposite side of the island, where the land met the ocean in a calm, still, aquamarine paradise. My dad snacked on trail mix brought from home; it had Craisins in it, which he absolutely loved. I can't be sure, but I think my dad cleaned his camera lens as they sat on the beach. My mom and dad chatted about this crazy adventure that they were on. My dad donned his snorkeling gear and a rash guard shirt (so he wouldn't get sunburned while snorkeling) and went out snorkeling in that quiet bay. He was out there with some other people; he and another guy saw some sort of shark, and they talked about it while floating out in the ocean.
I have no doubt that my dad was profoundly happy, peaceful, and invigorated by life that day. My dad was an adventurer to his core, and this trip perfectly satiated his adventuring desires. My dad had fished remote rivers in Alaska, took a boat trip down the Amazon River, explored temples all over Thailand, traveled to the southernmost tip of South America, safaried in Tanzania, and adventured around New Zealand's backcountry. Seeing, experiencing, and learning about new places, people, and things made his heart full. I can imagine him doting over the Blue-Footed Boobie, pointing his camera endlessly at the waves crashing against the island shore, and exclaiming with my mom about how much fun they were having.
At this moment, I long to feel the same sense of peace my dad felt on that day. Unfortunately, my soul's feathers are a bit ruffled right now. My mind wanders through thoughts about the fairness of life, why some people die young, and why good people are left to suffer. I have no answers to these questions and I surely wish my mind could calm itself from trying to solve unsolvable riddles.
There are also happy, peacful moments intermixed right now. The other night in my dream, my dad was alive again. I was at home with my family and we were given just one extra day to spend together. We knew that the day was finite, that my dad would be gone when the day ended. We weren't sad or mournful, just supremely grateful for a little extra time. I woke up feeling so happy after this dream, feeling like I had been specially gifted.
Whenever I talked on the phone with my parents, they would both get on the line, and the three of us would banter back and forth. Our good-byes always went something like this,
Mom: "Well, I love you, and be so very careful. I mean it, be careful."
Me: "Yes, Mom, I will. I love you."
Dad: "I love you. Be reckless and endanger the lives of many."
Me: "Ok, Dad, I'll do that. I love you."
My dad wasn't actually encouraging me to live a dangerous life; rather, he was comicaly counteracting my mother's over-abundance of caution and reminding me to go be the adventurer and explorer that I am. He knew that our souls were similar in our desire for adventure and exploration, and that this is what makes me most happy.
I'm going to go do exactly that, have an adventure of some sort. I hope that, in doing so, I will find the soul peace that I seek. Meanwhile, hug and kiss your loved ones; tell them how much they mean to you; take advantage of every moment you have with them. Also, do exactly what you love, what fills your heart over-full, what makes you feel like a whole person. This world is a crazy place and we can never know what might happen tomorrow, or later today.
Posted by Meghan at April 26, 2007 2:36 PM
Comments
I hope you find peace.
I enjoyed your post very much.
Regards
David
Posted by: David at April 26, 2007 4:34 PM
Your father was a great man, someone whos life is a wish for anybody. You are living it in part for him - think about it when you go to Coastal Challenge, snowshoe race, or just a run or a bike ride. He is with you always.
It's a great story.
Posted by: olga at April 26, 2007 6:50 PM
Your Dad's last day sounds like a perfect day. There is no sense about who dies when, why good people go too soon, no sense at all. It is just life, the way it goes. I used to wonder why my little sister had to have cerebral palsy, why she had to be so bound in her body. I eventually realized there is no answer. It is just life - in all it's glory, ups and downs, with ugly, uncomfortable, unreasonable bits and pieces, with beautiful, joy-filled moments, with twists and turns. And that eventually, life ends, despite our sorrow and our protests. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier to bear. Remember your Dad, honor him and your own soul by having adventures and honor your Mom by being careful in your adventures.
I just got off the phone with our oldest son who has just set off on a travelling adventure of his own, and speaking from the perspective of a Mom, it is oh-so-scary. I know he needs to do it, that it is part of him finding his way, but part of me wants him near, safe and secure. Trying to be a good Mom, I sent him off with cautions and with an "I love you". I hope that is enough.
Posted by: backofpack at April 26, 2007 7:34 PM
Beautiful post about your Dad Meghan... as Michelle said Honor him by the gift of adventure he passed on to you... & yes be be careful & smart about it for your Mom.
LIFE is meant to be Lived not to be understood, sounds to me like your Dad LIVED well while he was here!
Peace be with you,
Bob
Posted by: Bob G at April 26, 2007 9:23 PM
Although I never met either of you - it just seems like you and your dad are one in the same! Just like your dad you live adventurously - taking on big challenges and enjoy the outdoors. His influence has undoubtedly rubbed off on you!
Hoping you find peace and live with the great memories of a wonderful man...
Posted by: Beth at April 27, 2007 6:08 AM
Your dad sounds like a great guy. I know the peace you seek will fall upon you. Probably while you are putting yourself and many others into some dire and extreme danger ;-)
Posted by: Eric at April 27, 2007 1:52 PM
As said above, I think you and your Dad are very alike. So much awe and respect for what the world has to offer and eager to take the world up on each opportunity. It is a great world we have been given and a great opportunity we have been given to live life respecting and glorifying the creator who provided it all to us! You glorify life to the fullest!
Jenny
Posted by: Jenny at April 27, 2007 8:00 PM
Thanks for sharing! It sounds like you and your Dad were kindred spirits. I hope you have a great adventure that makes your soul fly.
Posted by: Mary at April 29, 2007 8:20 AM
That is a beautiful post. My dad would be 71 today. He died in December 1982. I understand the searching and not always knowing what for; trying to understand more about our lost loved ones, from the mundane to the profound. Cherish your dream. I think it is the closest thing to having them back.
Posted by: cathy at April 30, 2007 12:52 PM
I've started two posts, but aborted each. Your dad seems like an awesome guy. There's not really anything I can think of to say that would help since I'm out of my depth with family or death of someone so close.
Posted by: JeffO at April 30, 2007 1:50 PM
This story is very endearing !
Posted by: Shiva at April 30, 2007 5:03 PM
My mom also always tells me to be careful. I understand why she says it but it has always bothered me a little. Now I can counterbalance it with your father's words, his sentiment. The sights, sounds and sensations you describe are infinitely better things to experience on one's last day than the nursing home scenario. That's not to minimize the incredible loss you are left to feel, with your sensitive heart and thoughtful mind. I admire your courage to look at your pain full in the face. Meghan, to me, plain and simple: life is a heartbreak. But also, as Dickens said, what larks.
Posted by: Just Kendra at April 30, 2007 11:04 PM
I had not read Michelle's comment to you regarding her concerns about our eldest son's latest adventure. You have however touched our lives because when I called and talked to him on the phone I told him to be reckless and endanger his life and others around him. There was a long silence he was stunned. I think those words will help guide him on his journey in a positive way. Just as when your father's voice would emerge from your subconscious as you were making important decisions in your life. I hope you don't mind that I used his words but perhaps sharing your fathers wisdom will help others for many generations to come. Thanks
Posted by: Eric at April 30, 2007 11:09 PM
Meghan,
What a wonderful read. I think we all appreciate you sharing. It is like your father is still with you. I know he is in spirit. He will always be with you.
Posted by: tom riley at May 1, 2007 9:16 AM