Thanksgiving Day

On December 11^th my mom, dad, son and I board Oceania’s cruise ship Nautica to travel 35-days from Capetown, South Africa to Singapore.

A few years ago I took a 35-day trip from Hong Kong to Athens with my parents on Nautica and wrote about it on cruise critic. The link to that is here: http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=528321

The writing was ultimately published in a book called Cruising With Mom and Dad. I didn’t ever expect to take another trip like this again, but circumstances came up that made this trip possible. A lot has happened since my parents and I disembarked Nautica. My relationship of 8-years ended, I adopted a 10-year old (now 12 year old) son from the foster care system, my father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia (a nasty degenerative disease that combines the symptoms of Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s), and my economic circumstances have continually declined.

This trip isn’t convenient in terms of time or money, but worthwhile endeavors don’t always fit neatly into my life. When the opportunity came up, I decided that I needed to seize this chance to spend another month at sea with my dad and mom together, and give my son the opportunity to see the world with his grandparents and father.

One of the blessing and curses of ocean travel is the intimacy that comes from sharing small cabins. While I don’t look forward to sharing a 200 square feet cabin and sleeping in a single bed for a month, I know that when the trip is over I’ll appreciate the time with my son. I have packed noise-cancelling headphones and an eye mask for those moments that I need solitude in Casey’s presence.

My parents started their trip yesterday. My dad was born in Holland in 1931, and he wanted to spend a few weeks there before flying down to South Africa to board Nautica. It feels like he is taking one last trip to his native country before his disease makes it impossible for him to visit his homeland again. Today is Thanksgiving and though I miss spending it with my parents, what I really miss is spending it with my grandparents.

My grandfather died in 1993, and Thanksgiving hasn’t been the same since my 10 cousins, aunts and uncles filled my grandpa and grandma’s home. It’s hard to believe those dinners were almost 20-years ago. I remember it as if it were just last Thankgiving. At 47 I realize that when I was a child I believed my mom, dad, grandpa and grandma would always be there to protect, mentor, and guide me through the world. I didn’t realize that they had their own challenges too—from my childlike point of view they seemed able to hand whatever the world threw at them.

All my grandparents have been dead many years now, and as the dementia slowly steals away my fathers mobility, memory and personality, I realize that soon he will be gone too. I’ve been very lucky, as my significant ancestors have lived long, meaningful, example filled lives. But I don’t like that soon I have to be the adult and no one will stand any longer between me and whatever mystery comes after we die. What has changed is that by adopting Casey, I now do for Casey what my ancestors did for me. To him I am all powerful, capable and experienced. I try to share with him that I have bad days, insecurities and doubt, but I also make sure I give him the security he needs to grow, develop and thrive.

Yesterday I took my 11-year old Wheaten Terrier to get fitted with a wheel chair. He has a condition that’s similar to doggy Parkinson’s. He has lost much of his muscle control in his rear legs and as the disease progresses he will eventually lose control of all his limbs. The night before my parents left for Holland I had Rusty over to their house. We talked about my hopes for giving Rusty a quality of life as long as he isn’t in pain, and my desire to postpone the inevitable as long as my dog was comfortable and happy. He has been a good friend and the grief I feel at his decline has astonished me. As my mom and I talked I saw my dad scratching the dogs ears softly murmuring, “Are they talking about us Rusty? Are they talking about us?” Rusty and my dad are wise. They know that life as they know it is rapidly changing and that they are in the twilight of their lives. I like to think they are in the gloaming of their lives as that word has always had a magical, numinous quality to me.

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do with my dad in the gloaming of his life then take a 35-day cruise on Nautica. We will spend hundreds of hours together, explore some of the most beautiful islands in the world, take a safari, share many meals, visit the Temples of Burma (Myanmar), and talk. My dad could leave this world today and there is nothing left unsaid between us, but despite that there is still more I want to listen to and say. I can’t think of any way to teach my son, who has known far too much abandonment, abuse and neglect, what it means to be a good father and son than to watch my dad and I in the twilight of our relationship. Although Casey will miss 18-days of school to take this cruise, I hope that the lessons he learns with his grandparents and I will last a lifetime.

Casey and I leave on December 7^th. I’ll update this as I can. The Internet connection on the ship is slow and expensive, but I do want to leave a record here—both for you to enjoy and for me to remember.

Thanks for reading,

Jack