Today was Christmas, and it was a bit more emotional than I had thought it'd be. Last night we'd had a seafood BBQ at the guest house with everyone staying here. In town earlier in the day the boys and I had picked up a bottle of Arrack, as well as a bottle each of white and red wine. We were excited about our Christmas Eve festivities, and I was looking forward to a fun night with friends. Dinner was alright and then moments after we finished I felt a pain in my chest. I hung with the boys for a few minutes and then did an Irish Goodbye and disappeared into my room. I was really missing my Dad, and once the tears began they never really stopped. I cried for about two hours before finally crying myself to sleep...
I woke up early, the pain still in my chest, and decided on a surf. It was my first Christmas morning without Dad, and though in theory I was strong enough to deal with this, in reality it was a bit much. I gave Ama her gift and a card, and then ran towards the beach with tears in my eyes. I cried the whole walk to the beach and the whole paddle out. I'd get my shit together while I was sitting in the lineup, take a wave, and then cry the whole way as i paddled back out into the lineup. Take a wave, cry, take a wave, cry. I just was really missing him and there's not much else to say about that.
Back at the room, after a four hour session- my body completely defeated, I read a bit of my book, "The Namesake". Oddly enough, in the chapter I opened up to, the main character Gogol had just lost his father. This bit really felt special to me, and id like to share it with you:
Gogol is reflecting on a time long ago in his youth, when he and his father had gone exploring by the seaside....
"He heard his father cry out - they had left the camera with his mother. 'All this way and no picture', he'd said, shaking his head. 'We will have to remember it then'. They looked around, at the gray and white town that glowed across the harbor. Then they stared back again, for a while not trying to make an extra set of footsteps, inserting their shoes into the ones they had just made. A wind had picked up, so strong that it forced them to stop now and then.
"Will you remember this day, Gogol?", his father had asked, turning back to look at him, his hands pressed like earmuffs to either side of his head.
"How long do I have to remember it?"
Over the rise and fall of the wind, he could hear his fathers laughter. He was standing there, waiting for Gogol to catch up, putting out a hand as Gogol drew near.
"Try to remember it always", he said once Gogol had reached him. "Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go."
I guess that's all I really have now. The memory of the journey that we made together, the places that we went, and what we had. I will try to remember it, always. Merry Christmas everyone. Enjoy those that you love here and now, and remember those that you've lost.