Crossing the Bar*

To live in this world
you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones
knowing your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

~ Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

Mother Ocean

My mother loved the water.  A grocer's daughter, the 14th of 15 children, Mom grew up in Wilkes-Barre, PA, in the shadow of the Poconos, miles from the coast.  When she finally saw the ocean, as an adult, she took to it as if saltwater ran through her veins.  She found great joy living near the beach and wherever she was in the world, she was always drawn back to the coast for the beauty of the shoreline, the quality of the light, and the inexpressible comfort that water people find in just being near the ocean.  Throughout her life, she exhibited a childlike curiosity of the world and if not for her inner explorer, my parents would never have bought the old Cal 30 that was the catalyst for so many family adventures - weekend sails, short jaunts to the Keys, and summer vacations in the Berries.  Our first years in Florida were filled with countless funny moments as we learned about sailing, the ocean, and its secrets.  Mom was up for just about anything my brothers and I could throw at her – and she put up with a lot.  The first time my brothers handed her a fish to fillet, she tackled it gamely only to find that the fish was not quite dead.  She shrieked, and we all jumped with her, as the fish nearly flopped its way out of the sink.  One afternoon, we were collecting conch and placing them by her towel where she lay resting on the beach after a night shift at the hospital.  Her nap was repeatedly interrupted by “someone” throwing sand at her.  We all learned something about conch that day and their funny mode of transportation.

Nurse Dooley

On her first fishing excursion in the Keys, Mom caught the biggest fish

Water Cure

A nurse by profession and a healer at heart, Mom believed that water was the cure for everything.  We were the only kids I knew who went to the beach when we were too sick to go to school.  According to Mom, there was almost nothing that couldn’t be remedied by a soak in the ocean or a walk along its shore, and we have all remained devoted followers of the water cure.  Our biggest fan and our sharpest critic, Mom reveled in our achievements and shared our heartaches as we navigated the twisting journey from child to adult.  She was the cool, hip mom that all of us, including our friends, could talk to, and she was always happy to provide counsel. She was a freethinker, progressive and in many ways, years ahead of her time.  Some of the deepest, most thought-provoking conversations I've ever had were with Mom.  She was equally capable of being serious and philosophical as she was being utterly silly, reducing us to side-splitting laughter.  Though our relationship was often challenging and sometimes rocky, love always prevailed.  Much could be written about those ups and downs, but the one true thing is this:  Mom loved her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchild with her all of her heart.  When the chips were down, she never failed to come through for us and, later, our loved ones, with her whole heart, motherly advice (wanted or not), a warm hug, and a gourmet meal.

Mom loved being out on the water

Dolores Louise at Lake Louise

As if we needed reminding....

Final Passage

The changing dynamic between parent and child is often subtle, as it was with us.  In hindsight, I can see how Mom came to lean on me and my brothers more and more, but I almost didn’t notice it while it was happening.  In the prime of her life, she could be a force to be reckoned with, strong and capable; but, in dying, she softened and became reflective, her love expanding and growing even as her physical body was fading. Someone once told me that having a parent die is a lot like childbirth – if you haven’t actually experienced it, it’s difficult to know exactly how it feels.  My mother has been gone for over two years now and yet I still find myself reaching for the phone to call her or text a picture.  Art, theater, music, sunrises, sunsets, and all things beautiful remind me of her.  I relive moments everyday as I negotiate my relationship with my own daughter and wonder how Mom pulled it off with four of us and our busy schedules (school, sports, music, etc.) while also holding down a position as head nurse in the CCU on the nightshift.  I’m pretty sure Mom was the original Wonder Woman.  When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2005 and we began to brace ourselves for the worst, it should have come as no surprise to any of us when she lived 8 more full years.  Still, like childbirth, as much as you think you’re ready, nothing can truly prepare you for contractions or death.  And so it was on Holy Saturday, 2013, when Mom crossed over, the four of us surrounding her bed and holding her as she’d once held us.  A year to the day, I had a dream.... She, my brothers, and I were on a ship sailing under the Golden Gate bridge and out to sea.  As we passed the Marin Headlands, a pilot boat drew alongside.  Dismay turned to wonder as I watched her disembark.  No words were spoken, but our eyes were locked as she drew away.  With dawning awareness and a curious sense of rightness, I realized then that she had gone as far as she could with us and we were now truly on our own. 

Braving a sail on San Francisco Bay (2004)

Mom takes the helm of Remedy in 20+ kts as we sail under the Golden Gate Bridge

Saying Goodbye

April 19^th dawned cloudy and cool with light winds, not an especially promising start to the day.  We had finally managed to get my three brothers, their wives, and all but two of their children together for a sail and we wanted everything to be perfect.  With a freshening breeze and clearing sky, we sailed out Lake Worth Inlet and into calm seas.  Cousins played and teased each other, and explored every manner of having fun on a boat, while the adults relaxed, sipped Bellinis and noshed on shrimp, lobster, and other delicacies that are required for all gatherings of my foodie family.  We laughed and joked and told our favorite “Mom” stories.  Tears were shed, hugs were shared, and collective memories warmed our hearts.  Then, three miles out into the Gulf Stream under a deep blue sky, we spread my mother’s ashes at last, remembering her loving, joyful, adventurous spirit and taking heart in the fact that she is now part of Mother Ocean where we live, work and play. 

A time for togetherness...

A time for reflection...

A time for play.

* Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Dolores Louise Hudak 8/25/35 - 3/30/13