I didn't post a lot about the trip once we started to head out of Orlando and to the Keys. All I can say... difficult. It was an extremely tough trip. I know we did the right thing. I know Dad would have been so proud of us for figuring out a way to get to Key West to spread his ashes. But it wasn't easy.
There were moments when I swear he was with us. That's a big deal for me to say - I want to believe in an afterlife, I want to believe there's something else, but I have no proof, and dammit, I don't believe ANYTHING that I don't experience for myself.
There were songs that played on the radio at highly coincidental moments. The second we were crossing on to the first Key, Oye Como Va by Santana started playing. Mom and I did our best to ignore it, don't make eye contact, don't cry, don't mention it. Doesn't sound like much - but Dad loved Santana. He definitely rocked the "Latin flava". I used to joke about it with my friends, there were some older women at work that would practically bat their eyelashes at him. There was one woman (no longer there, but if you ask me offline, I'll tell you who - Chey prolly remembers) that we used to call Cujo. Gentle as can be *insert rolling of eyes and gagging* - which is how she earned the nickname when we were trainees. Yup, she and Dad were buds. Woman would rip me a new ass in a meeting, and go home and bake a cake for him. No lie.
Where the hell was this post going? Oh yeah. The Keys and messages from beyond. There was another song that came on right when we went by the state park that my parents went kayaking in. I won't name the song out of respect for Mom's privacy. But if there is an afterlife, if he can communicate at all - it was Dad trying his hardest to let her know he's there.
We let him go the night we arrived in Key West. We found a beautiful spot by where the big cruise ships dock, right as the sun was sinking in to the ocean. Every night when people clap, cheer, and toast the sunset, they'll be celebrating Dad. And as we left his final resting spot, we realized all of the power went out on the island. As S* said when I told him about it... "Where the hell did you guys drop him? You know he can't be unsupervised around electricity!"
Gotta love that town. Power out, 90 degree heat, clothes clinging to the tourists from 100% humidity, all the restaurants and shops closed, but the bars were still open. Candles on the tables, couldn't serve anything with carbonation, but they found us some chips, salsa and killer martinis. We say goodbye to Dad, and then toasted him until we were stumbling and had to call a cab to bring us back to the hotel.
That's about all of an update I can handle for now. I feel better that he's where he truly wanted to be, but it hasn't eased the sense of loss. I still miss talking to him every day, and still turn quick when I hear a voice that sounds like his, or see a head that looks like his 5 aisles away. But I know we did the right thing. I'm grateful that the timing worked out. Seriously, if it had been a month later, with the way the economy is going, there is no way we could have swung it. But I'll deal with that in another post. For now, I'm just going with grateful.
I know, I know, I'm still not returning emails or phone calls in a timely manner. I will, I promise. Still having that head-stuck-up-my-ass problem. But it's getting better. I'm starting to try to reach out again. Of course, with the current economic shitstorm, I can't afford to go out to dinner with you guys, but perhaps a night of Guitar Hero and homemade margaritas is in order soon? Muah! Love to all my girls...
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