An Ocean of tears

*Trigger warning. This post is about death and loss.

This is a story that must be told.

September 18, 2023 was a typical day for me. I was helping at a family member’s home taking care of our aunt. The sun was shining and there was optimisim in the air. Just a few days before, I made the decision to launch an art business. I was finally in a place where I felt that I could move forward with such a venture. My husband and two sons were doing well and life felt like it’s sweetness was returning after so many years of struggle and pain.

Then my phone rang.

My parents left on an RV trip the night before to Cape Dissappointment State Park on the Washington coast. Taking the RV to the coast was their very favorite thing to do together. Dad loved to fish and mom loved the endless walks on the beach. This was how they enjoyed their golden years together. And, it was very well deserved.

I could tell by the sound of my mom’s voice that something was very wrong. She was breathless and she told me that she couldn’t find dad. He went fishing on the jetty. His fishing tackle and pole were laying in the spot he fished from. But Dad wasn’t there. A very sweet couple stopped to try and offer assistance to my mom, as she was very distraught. One of them got on the phone with me to tell me that search and rescue had been dispatched to find my dad.

Search and rescue? I’m sure he just walked over to another fishing spot. Maybe he fell and is injured, waiting to be found. I’m sure he’s there somewhere! Where could he possibly go?

The good Samaritan reiterated to me that my dad was indeed missing. The boats and helicopters were out searching the ocean for him. I asked them to please make sure my mom would not be left alone. I was on my way.

My mind reeled as I tried to gather my thoughts. I need to get there. Can I drive? What about our boys? Ugh, John flew out to Alaska that morning for a work trip. I need him here. Ok, I need to get there. It’s three and a half hours away…THREE AND A HALF HOURS! That’s too long to not be with my poor mom. I gotta get there. Can I drive? Can I even think right? WHERE IS MY DAD?!

I called GP…she would know what to do. She has been in my life for over twenty years. She’ll tell me what to do next. She picked up the phone and I mumbled out through my sobbing, “My dad is missing! They can’t find him. He’s in the ocean. I need help. I can’t think straight. I need to get to my mom. Do you think I can drive?”

GP immediately went into Go Mode. She told me she’d meet me at my house. “No, you can’t drive. I will drive you.”

Somehow I arrived at my house through sobbing and tears. I cried out to God as I drove home from caring for our aunt, “Please, God! Please help them find Dad. Please be with him. Please. Please. Please…”

I arrived at our house. What do I do now? Do I pack clothes? What about the dogs? Why hasn’t Mom called back to tell me he had just wandered off to another fishing spot? Call the boys. Call John again. Call William (my brother). Call EVERYONE. Why was John and William on airplanes today??? I need them to tell me what to do…

I ran next door to see if MK could help me with the dogs while I was gone to the coast. This is when the people in my tribe took over and I just followed directions. GP and MK packed up my car and helped our sons get packed and ready for the trip. What kind of clothes do I pack? How long will we be gone? Do I pack boots? Will I be joining the search for Dad? We will need heavy, waterproof coats and boots. Where are my boots?…

Before I knew it, my car was packed. The entire back of the car was filled with warm clothes, boots, and food. Food? Who brought food? MK reassured me that she would take care of the dogs. I knew I didn’t need to think about another thing as far as leaving the dogs and house. She jumped in and figured everything out. I’m not sure how. I don’t remember telling her what needed to be done.

GP, the boys and I were in the car headed north. Oh, S#%t! I’m going to have to sit in this seat for THREE AND A HALF hours! Oh, mom…I’m so sorry your’re alone right now. I’m coming! We are on our way…just THREE AND A HALF hours…

I don’t remember much of that drive. I do know that I called our priests to ask for prayer. I called everyone to ask for prayer. I needed the prayer warriors in my life to stand in the gap for us as we reeled about what was happening. The agony was great. Not knowing was brutal.

Father C prayed to St. Minas. We are Greek Orthodox Christians. When important things or people are lost, we ask St. Minas for his help. As time ticked by in the car, I began to realize that maybe Dad hadn’t just wandered off. Maybe something terrible did happen to him. Why haven’t they called? Where is he???

Lord Jesus, if it is my dad’s time to leave us, I think I can eventually accept that. But, I BEG of you, PLEASE return his body to us. I don’t think I could bear not seeing him to say goodbye. PLEASE, God, PLEASE..

We were 10 minutes away from Mom. My phone rang. Through bad cell phone reception and tears, I made out mom saying, “He’s alive! He survived! He’s swimming to me!” Then, the phone cut out.

What??? He’s alive? He’s SWIMMING??? Oh my God, he’s ALIVE! My brain couldn’t process what I just heard. GP, the boys and I couldn’t get there fast enough. I called my mom back to tell her we were less than ten minutes away from her. She answered in a voice I’d never heard from her before, “He’s dead.” Then the phone cut out again.

He’s DEAD? But, he was just swimming! What the hell is happening?! I gotta get to Mom…I have got to get there to hold her up. This is a scenario I have never imagined. Dad was supposed to get old and in the twighlight of his life, I was supposed to care for him as age set into his body. We would have time to love on each other. I would have time to thank him for what a good dad he has been. I would have time…

We arrived at the beach and saw my mom with a police officer. She was sitting on a log with her face in her hands. Defeated. Crushed. Bewildered. I ran out of the car and took her into my arms as we both wailed in agony.

The police officers and park rangers were so very kind to us. They told us that Dad was likely taken by a sneaker wave while he was fishing on the rocks of the jetty. The coroner and paramedics allowed us to see my dad before they took him away. They did advise against it, as he had suffered trauma. But, I reassured them that I would be able to handle it and that not seeing him was not a option for me.

Somehow, GP, the boys, my mom and I ended up in a hotel room. Again, I’ll remind you that GP is a doer. She knew the state I was in and took over. The boys got busy taking care of their Mimi, helping her to the room, getting her something to drink…at one point, I looked over and saw Noah (our eldest) kneel down at mom’s feet as he took her water and sand laden shoes off. They got a pot of water and he washed her feet. Days later, GP shared how powerful that image was.

The minutes and hours passed as we all sat in the hotel room, unsure of what to do. It was a steady stream of sobbing and silence. At some point, GP and MK arranged to have a funeral home come get Dad’s body to take home the next day. GP fed the boys, offered her embrace and prayers, and constantly offered me water and food…reminding me that I needed to have strength to be there for my mom. I spent the evening calling various family members to tell them the awful news. I had to call my little brother that day to tell him our dad died. Dad died.

At around midnight, my mom came out of the bedroom and sat on the couch. She started talking. Until this point, she hadn’t said much at all. She was in shock. Her body was weak with the first giant waves of grief. She told us that the search and rescue was called off after several hours of searching. The police officers tried to get Mom to come off of the beach, as she had been out there all day. She was wet and had not taken any food or drink. She refused to leave the beach. She told them that she could hear my dad calling to her in her heart. She told them that he was coming back to her. The police officers recognized that she was in shock. They assigned their unit chaplain to stay with her on the beach until I arrived. Not long after, my mom screamed that she could see him swimming in the ocean toward the shore! She ran into the surf to get to him, but the police chaplain pulled her back as the ocean was very rough that day. He told her to stay on the beach and he would go help dad.

She relayed the following story in a monotone and weak voice. “You know, I thought Dad was swimming to me. I thought he had somehow survived and was swimming back to me. I could see his arms moving in the water. The police chaplain told me to stay on the beach, so I just kept my eyes on Dad. When he got closer, I realized that he wasn’t swimming. He wasn’t moving his arms. Something else was moving his arms. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Two sea lions had Dad, one by each arm. They were swimming his body back to me. When they got close to the beach and waves, they pushed Dad into the surf toward me. The chaplain was there to pull dad’s body out of the water. I watched the sea lions as they stayed, bobbing in the water. When they saw his body get pulled out onto the sand, they swam away. Dad came back to me. I knew he would. He was calling to me in my heart. I knew he would come back to me.” Her voice faded off as she returned into herself with grief.

We were stunned. Did she just tell us TWO SEA LIONS brought Dad’s body back to us? I thought the events of that day had taken enough of a toll on my psyche. He’s missing. He’s alive. He’s dead. And now, two creatures of the ocean brought my Dad’s body back to us. What? God, did you really do this for us? Did you really hear our requests? Do you really love us THIS MUCH? I was overwhelmed with the love of God in that moment. It was Dad’s time to go. God was with us in our agony. Did St. Minas help in this? Are we experiencing a modern day miracle? This sounds like a story out of the Bible.

The hotel door opened and my sweet John walked in. He had finally made his way to us from Anchorage. I fell into his arms as I sobbed, “Dad is gone…”

Many of you may not understand the role of saints in the Christian life. As Orthodox Christians, we believe that the “great cloud of witnesses” are actively at work in our lives. We ask them for their intercessions and assistance all the time. The body of Christ never dies or is separated. The Church…past, present, and future…are connected by His love.

If you are still reading this, I thank you. I needed to tell this story in written form. I want record of it. I believe that each time I share the story about the miracle of the sea lions, the pain of losing my dad is dulled just a bit. I don’t understand why my dad died the way he did, or why he died when he did. There are so many questions I have. But, the one thing I am certain of is God’s love for us. Christ can relate to our agony and pain. His compassion for us is unfathomable. I am beyond humbled by all of this. My life has changed. My relationship with God has changed. His expression of love and His grace toward us is undeniable.

The painting you see at the beginning of this post is entitled An Ocean of Tears. I painted it three days after my dad died. I was so deeply sad and angry about not having my dad anymore, I went to the canvas to let out some grief. I began my process as I usually do…paint, mark making, paint, mark making. I didn’t have a plan. I just wanted to throw paint at the canvas. As I stepped back to allow a layer to dry, I noticed a form emerging. A sea lion.

Awesomely awful. This is how we describe what happened. The events that followed as we planned the funeral were dotted with more miracles. But, those stories will need to be told another time.

Father C. said, “Even the sea creatures know the voice of God.” I hope that we can all clear the layers of distraction, pain, suffering and even the good things in life so that we are able to hear His voice.

God is real. He loves you so very much. Still yourself and listen…He’s calling to all of us.