That’s me on the right, eye to tail with the salmon. My big sis had the tough job of balancing dad’s catch for the photo. And I had my Pom Pom shoes to keep clean apparently, with killer overalls to boot.
Spunky. That is one of my dad’s favorite words. And mice—most children, including my own, are still referred to as “the mice”. Tomorrow I’m taking my younger “mouse” and his friend on an adventure to a nearby island, as we are hungry for a change of scenery, but staying close to home as advised due to COVID.
The boys want to explore bunkers—I want to swim. In preparation I searched the local open waters swim group on Facebook, and stumbled upon the first post I ever wrote about open water swimming.
It referenced Marrowstone—the island we are visiting tomorrow, and much to my surprise I was reminded by this post that the first day I went for an official open water swim of any distance—1/2 mile, as opposed to my 47 years of splashing and frolicking about in the Salish Sea—was last April. April 19th, one day before my dad’s birthday.
I have included the story of my dad here, with a photo from the store we will visit again tomorrow on our adventure. And then I’ll take a swim.
I’ve got to stay spunky like the mice, just like dad taught me.
From April 20, 2020–
My dad turned 77 today.
I love my dad.
I saw him through glass today.
We used our phones to talk through the solid wall of glass.
Dad said, “I’m not sure which one of us is the monkey behind the glass.” I told him I wasn’t sure either.
There are no words to express how painful this sort of distance is….and I know we are lucky by many standards, in many, many ways. And it still is hard as shit. Second year in a row of not being able to hug my dad and celebrate this amazingly complicated, loving and sweet father of mine. To say we’ve had some challenges in the past few years is an understatement.
Today we held our phones to our ears, with our faces less than 4 feet apart, separated by the library window of the facility where he now lives.
I miss so much about who he was and am also grateful for some of the softness that I see in him now. Amidst the current new reality I find more and more things to be grateful for each day….and feel loss over and over and over again. The gratitude and loss share the same basket.
This photo was from a father’s day card I made for him years ago. This captures the essence of what I hold in my heart. Dad’s endless spunk and energy captured here–a spontaneous bike ride on Marrowstone Island with my sister–he taught us to adventure–along with his moments of quiet contented, heart-filled joy– just being with us.
I think dad was always his best on the water. Sailing or putting around in whatever boat was at hand. I remember him telling me once that being alone on the sailboat was where he found real peace. To this day I find the greatest peace on the water–or better yet in the water. I realize now that part of the draw is that it makes me feel closer to dad. Yesterday I squeezed into a wetsuit and hoodie and swam my first 1/2 mile in Fletcher Bay with my neighbor, Dave. The water temperature was 58 degrees. This was a big first. I couldn’t wait to tell him.
Probably my happiest moment today with my dad included telling him I made him an apple pie (just like his mom would have made) and telling him about my chilly swim yesterday. I think that dad would agree that I got his “spunk” gene.
And best of all—watching him revel in the cards our sons made for him–our eldest drew a picture of him and dad riding around in the little motor boat, with fishing poles and a beer perched on the outboard (just like dad used to do)–and our youngest drew dad’s sailboat, his refuge, now a distant memory.
Dad. If life allows, I hope we can take another boat ride together this summer. It’s been too long. And we could both use a cold beer.
Mary Swims 
💞✨🏹🧚♀️🏹✨💞