Sailing Away

Rebecca adjusted the curtains and peered out once again. Time stood still. She needed to see something moving, something alive to keep her grounded. It was late afternoon, and soon the setting sun would give out too much glare, but for the time being, it felt good to look out at the horizon.

The hospice was a few blocks from the ocean, but Dad’s room was on the 7th floor. The view was breathtaking. Rebecca turned and looked at the shape on the bed. Ironically, his breaths had already been taken. The sound of the respirator’s constant hiss and chug, along with the for-now steady, slow rhythm of the heart monitor was driving Rebecca to distraction. She cracked open the window, allowing sea air to waft through the room. She could hear gulls and the slow tolling of a buoy in the distance, and the never-ending sound of the waves was soothing.

The hospice had chosen a nautical theme in the room, despite the medical devices and hospital bed. The pictures on the walls were of seagulls and yachts. Someone had lined the frames with rope and seashells, no doubt some women’s auxiliary’s attempt to brighten the room. The wallpaper was ocean spray blue, and on the rocking chair by the bed, someone had draped a beautiful lap blanket in seafoam green. Dad would have loved this room.

Rebecca turned and spoke, “Can you hear it, Dad? Doesn’t it remind you of home?”

“Home” had been a small house in Astoria, just the three of them. “Home” was where she and Mom waited for Dad to come home from his fishing runs. “Home” was fresh-canned tuna every year, standing in neat rows in the larder. “Home” was wind reddened cheeks and the scent of fish all the time.

“I think I liked it best, Dad, when you retired. I got to see more of you when you stopped fishing and started that charter business. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Mom was already gone, and even though you loved the sea, you stayed closer to shore for me, didn’t you?”

Rebecca turned back towards the window. Not too far from the marina was a sailing ship, heading out to deeper water. It was brilliant white and sky blue, dancing along the top of the waves. The boat was too far out to read her name, but whatever it was, it was a short name; probably that of a child or lover.

Rebecca positioned a chair so she could be next to her father’s bed yet continue to see the sailboat.

“Remember that time you did that charter tour for that family for their reunion? How many were there? I don’t know how you managed to keep them out for as long as you did. I’ll never forget coming up to the slip and seeing you hosing them off along with the deck. Priceless!” Rebecca chuckled and looked towards her father. Perhaps she expected to see a smile on his face or hear him laugh--no, guffaw. Dad always guffawed.

Rebecca’s smile faded. Dad was beyond laughing at funny memories. He was beyond everything she would recognize as living. He was in an entirely different realm, busy dying. Mom had passed all those years before, and Dad was probably looking for her. Rebecca hoped that there was something afterward, a merging of souls, a spiritual reunion of some sort. Was he aware he was dying? Rebecca doubted it. He didn’t even know she was there. “You can go if you want to, Dad.” She brought his liver-spotted hand to her lips and held it there. “I’ll be okay. You’ve waited long enough.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed like the heart monitor had slowed a bit. Rebecca looked over, not sure if she wanted reassurance that he was still on this side of death, or that he was finally stepping away from this world.

Rebecca glanced back out the window. The sailboat was further out, but still visible. She watched it for a while. She imagined her parents on the boat, standing side by side as Dad steered the boat further out to sea. She raised her hand and waved, immediately feeling foolish.

The little sailboat continued into deeper ocean, heading directly towards where the sun would soon set. In her mind’s eye, the couple onboard were getting smaller and smaller, their features blurring as they got too far away to see. Mom’s gray hair was still visible, and the sun shone off Dad’s bald head--he had forgotten his captain’s hat--but not much else was discernible.

The heart monitor slowed more. Rebecca checked it again. It had gone from 68 to 43.

Rebecca stood and kissed her father, whispering, “Goodbye. I love you.” She walked over to the window and watched the boat, again whispering her goodbyes. It came as no surprise to her that as the small, faraway sailboat slipped from her view, the heart monitor slowed and finally sounded an alarm for the nurses. She waved in the direction of the boat and again whispered, “I love you.”