The Body Remembers...

 Jan. 21, 2025

"It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." MyGriefAssist.com.au

I woke feeling very low on the 21st. I was listless. Unmotivated. My back ached and my throat felt tight. I didn't even feel like going to passenger choir. 

I suspected it was because the anniversary of my dad's death was looming. He died a year ago on January 22nd. But on the 21st, we knew he was "transitioning," as his hospice nurse told us. There was nothing more we could do. The tumor that would steal him from us was running its course, as inexorably as a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain.   

We could only keep vigil at his bedside, holding his hand, speaking our love to him though he was unable to respond, trying to sing songs he loved, reciting the 23rd psalm that he'd been repeating over the previous weeks as he struggled to put on his socks. Into the dark hours just after midnight, I waited and watched in helpless sorrow as the first man I ever loved slipped away. He taught me so much. The last lesson was how to die.

We were all entirely spent. Drained to the last dregs. 

As if my body remembered, it was that same feeling that held me fast this year on the 21st. My DH and Dad had become very close, so he understood how I felt. So we declared a day in. After lunch, we retreated to our cabin and watched a movie that had captivated Dad's imagination--The Life of Pi. It's a quixotic tale of action and adventure with spiritual overtones. It's beautifully shot and I enjoyed  seeing it again, remembering how it pleased Dad so that I'd watched it with him. There's no romance, so Mom was not a fan, but Dad enjoyed stories that made him think. 

He also loved sci-fi, so while we ate our room service supper (excellent, BTW) we watched The Martian, another favorite of Dad's.  He loved stories that rewarded hard work and determination, traits he exhibited all his life.

By the time we turned out the lights, my spirit had lifted. I reminded myself that Dad was on the greatest adventure of his life. He is with his Savior and if ever he remembers his life here with us, it must seem like a dream. We feel the separation, but he doesn't. I told him in his final days that he will look over his shoulder and there we'll be, right behind him.

On the 22nd, we visit Rarotonga, our first new-to-us port on this itinerary. So I'll be sharing our doings for that day soon.