When Cruising Doesn't Matter a Bit...

 On November 20, 2023, after talking and thinking about our world cruise plans for 2025, we decided to jump ship and switch from Cunard's Queen Anne's maiden world voyage to the Viking Sky for the itinerary we thought we were going to get in 2022. It's not that we don't like Cunard. It's just that memories of our Viking experience called us so strongly, we decided to make the change. Our trusted travel agent cancelled our booking with Cunard. They were entirely lovely about the whole switch and refunded 100% of our deposit immediately, no questions asked. Then we made the payment for our 2025 voyage with Viking instead. We were happy and excited about our decision. How blessed were we to have this incredible, shiny adventure sparkling on the horizon...

Then suddenly, it didn't matter a bit.

On November 21, 2023, my 88 year old father had a fall and hit his head on my mom's piano. We convinced him to let us take him to the ER. I suspected we'd discover he'd had a minor stroke that had caused the fall, but we were shocked to learn that he had a tennis ball-sized mass in his frontal cortex which turned out to be a glioblastoma, the most aggressive and virulent of all brain cancers.

My dad had been out mowing his own lawn just the week before this fall. Then in just two months and a day, he was gone. 

But in those two months and a day, we laughed together. We worshipped together. We celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas and my Mom & Dad's 70th anniversary on Christmas Day, passing out cookies at church to everyone who came for that special service. We cheered the Chiefs on as they stumbled through the post season. We were together every day.

70 years! My parents loved long and well.

My guys and their cherry pies! 

And we had heartbreaking moments when we traveled to St. Louis to see a specialist who gave us the definitive prognosis. Incurable. Untreatable. It was time to be thankful for the long life he'd already enjoyed and count each day precious. 

And bittersweet times when all my out-of-state sisters and Dad's brother came to see him to say goodbye. The daily onslaught of new symptoms and losses as the illness ground inexorably toward its end. The tumor stole more from him with each sunrise. 

But it never really took him. Never touched the essence of who my Dad was. He was still himself. His personality, his wit, his faith in Jesus was undiminished. He never lost who he was. He never lost us. He knew us till he stepped from this world into arms of God in the early hours of January 22, 2024. 

And I didn't think about cruising, world or otherwise, for quite a while after he passed. 

But I can lay my wanderlust directly at my dad's feet. He's the one who took me camping throughout the American West as a kid. He taught me to read a map, to find north by looking up at the sky, day or night, and being able to orient from there the other cardinal directions. And slowly, thoughts of that beguiling, hope-filled voyage we'd booked last November for next year, began to creep back into my consciousness. 

Yes, she is as sweet and ornery as she looks!

So now, in addition to the other things we do to prepare to leave our land life for four months, I need to make sure my 87 year old mom is ready for us to be gone that long. Her heart is broken, but her spirit is not crushed. I think she will be okay with our adventure and thanks to Viking's really good included wifi, we should be able to text with her every day and call on port days. Of course, our daughters and my niece are close to her too, so I expect all will be well. 

In the weeks and months to come, I'll be sharing more about what we do to prepare for an extended voyage. Since this will be our third trip around this glorious blue ball, we've learned a few things and are happy to expound on our hits and misses. 

And maybe I'll eventually be able to share why cruising does matter again...