Capetown to Singapore

[CintiPam]

Bravo Jack! Absolutely terrific thread, thank you sincerely for sharing your adventure with us. I nominate this thread (OP) as the CC thread of the year.

 

Second!

 

So many of us Oceania cruisers also have elderly parents or those who have passed recently. You are sharing your so personal perceptions of this experience in such important ways with us, and for so many, bringing those parental memories, both good and bad, to the fore; very difficult for all of us, but very special.

[JoePDX]

Jack -

 

I hope that through writing down your feelings you are getting some strength and peace. Thank you for sharing the journey with us. I'm proud to call you a friend, despite the fact we've never met.

 

Joe

[Paulchili]

Jack,

I echo the sentiment of others who thank you for sharing these difficult times with us.

You probably know this already but you should feel happiness instead of sorrow as you are fortunate enough to have enjoyed a good life with your father for so many years. You may not feel this way now, as you are hurting, but you will feel that way in time.

I would trade places with you in a heart beat as I lost my dad when I was 16 and my mom when I was 20. I was too young to fully appreciate them then as I was a typical teenager with other “priorities”. I wish I could have gotten to know them better as an adult, I wish they could have seen their children succeed in life, I wish I could ask them all those questions now that didn’t matter to me as a teenager – but I cannot do any of those things. I still cherish their memory and always will. I thank them for everything as they made me the person I am today, much like your parents made you the good person you are.

Enjoy every minute with your parents and instead of grieving a loss think of all the wonderful things and times you all shared together throughout your lives.

Stay strong.

[Oceans&Rivers]

Dear Jack,

 

Bless you for taking the time to share your story with us. I only just now found your account of your journey, but it is perfect timing.

 

There is a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes after reading just a small portion of what you have written so far and I know I must sign off now and come back to it another day, but I want to leave you with a link to a small YouTube video (just under two minutes) that you might play for your Dad and Mom if you have the opportunity.

 

It is entitled "Vrolijk Kerstfeest Gelukkig Nieuwjaar" and that is what I wish for all of you:

 

[Paulchili]

Jack,

After reading my post above it had occurred to me that it may be interpreted as if I might be implying that my misfortune is somehow greater than yours. That certainly was not my intension at all as everyone’s loss of a parent is equally difficult and tragic.

I simply wanted to present a different point of view that might ease your pain – a point of view that may not occur to you at this time; a way to see things in a more positive way.

Thank you for understanding.

Paul

[LHT28]

Jack

I enjoy reading about your journey all the ups & downs

I feel as others have expressed ..by writing your feeling down it will help you heal in time.

All the best of the Holiday season to you & your family

 

Enjoy your parent's company while you can.

 

Lyn

[Mura]

The good times are heart warming and the bad times are heart rending. Best wishes to have far more of the good times on this trip, Jack.

 

My father died at 80 of pancreatic cancer. He suffered physically but was in full command intellectually. My mother (as I believe I've already said) was 93 last month and has Alzheimer's. She also was just diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in her jaw so her time most likely is very limited.

 

Dad had physical pain and my mom so far has had mostly emotional pain. I think it's far worse for her ...

 

But how wonderful that you can be so close to your father at this time, and that Casey can learn to know him as well. It must be a great comfort to your mother to have you with her at this difficult time.

 

We are all grateful for your wonderful travelogue which is far more than a mere travelogue. We are seeing your family as people as well as learning about the places you are seeing. Thank you.

[no fuss travel]

Thank you for your posts. My family too took my mother with us when we traveled after my dad passed away. The last cruise was something like yours is now only my mom had a stroke on Christmas Day which dampened the cruise for the family a bit. We are so glad that our children and my spouse and I have wonderful memories of the trips we shared with my mom and before he passed away my father too. Every Christmas the funny stories of our Christmas trips in the past come up and we enjoy a good laugh now at things that didn't seem so funny at the time but now we can look back and see the humour in the situation and see how much love we all shared.

I am looking forward to reading the rest of your posts as they are bringing back memories for me that are both good and some bad.

Enjoy you trip as you will be blessed with wonderful memories and so will your son.

[wripro]

Jack,

 

I would never skip one of your posts. No matter how difficult the specific circumstances may be from one day to the next your experience in its totality is life affirming. Your love for both your father and son evokes feelings of admiration and envy, again a testament to the truth of your words and the ability with which you express yourself.

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

Cathi, I’m sorry to hear about your father. My chin is up and I’m actually having a great cruise. One thing I’m learning is that for the most part being onboard is good almost regardless of circumstances.

 

Dwelsh, your message to my father is delivered and it made him smile.

 

Aussie Gal (Jennie) Thanks for sharing your story. I hope you had a Merry Christmas.

 

Rubysue, thank you for sharing your story. I believe the best of Internet boards is our co-creative efforts. It’s all our stores. This isn’t a book—it’s an exchange.

 

Colonel Wes, thanks for the kind words. As a veteran I’m sure I would have like to have served under you.

 

CintiPam, thanks for the encouragement. Yes, some of these are difficult memories and though I don’t want to “bring people down” during the holidays, this story, like most, has a life of its own. Thanks for understanding that.

 

Joe, I consider you a neighbor and a friend as well. Yes, writing is quite therapeutic!

 

Paul Chili, thanks so much for the encouragement. Your words gave me gratitude and hope and I so appreciate you sharing your point of view. As I said above, this is a co-creative effort. Your perspective helps me and this isn’t “my thread.” It’s “our thread,” so please share anything you want.

 

Oceans & rivers, thank you for the link. I plan to play it for my dad tomorrow. It was so thoughtful of you to send it. Thank you.

 

 

CHRISTMAS EVE & CHRISTMAS DAY

 

Christmas Eve morning my cabin phone rang early. “We got a fishing boat for a half day! Call me right away,” Sukey’s voice said on my voice mail. We were docked in Mauritius, which is world renowned for blue marlin fishing. The dock was near town and the sun was bright on a cloudless low 80 degrees day. My mom and dad decided to stay on the boat and let my dad rest, so Casey, Sukey and I left the ship to get a taxi for the drive to Grand Baie.

 

Unlike Reunion Island there were ample cabs just off the ship. We negotiated a round trip half hour ride with an older local named Habib. He agreed to drive us about 20 miles, wait for us while we went fishing for four hours, and return us to the ship for one hundred dollars.

 

Habib was a very pleasant man. He was born on Mauritius and appeared to be in his mid-60’s.

 

“The island is so clean,” I said.

 

“Yes, very clean,” he replied in a lilting mix of English, French and Creole. “Everyone here likes things so clean.” I could see he took pride in his country. Mauritius is a gorgeous tropical island located about 500 miles east of Madagascar. It is independent and has one of the highest incomes in Africa—about $12,000 per person per year. Their currency, the Mauritian Rupee, is the only official tender, but dollars and euros are widely accepted.

 

“How many people live here Habib?”

 

“About 1.2 million. Look,” he said pointing out the window of his car, “that is sugar cane.” He turned to Casey, “Do you like sugar?” Casey nodded vigorou.

 

“Did you ever work in the sugar cane fields?”

 

“Oh, yes! Many hours!” His brown face crinkled in a smile. “All my friends worked there.”

 

“How are the doctors here?” He looked at me not understanding. “If you get sick can you get good medicine?”

 

“Oh yes! The hospital is free for everyone.”

 

“What about the government?”

 

“They are a pretty good government. Not too many problems. We have good roads and not much corruption.”

 

The roads were almost as clean as Singapore and the drive along the coast was as scenic as anything in the Caribbean. Even though it was Christmas Eve, it felt good to feel the sun on my arms and the ocean breeze rushing through the car. Mauritius is a tropical jewel.

 

“Here you are. I’ll be waiting here for you after you go fishing.”

 

“Would you like any money?”

 

“No, you can pay me later,” he smiled. “Have fun. Merry Christmas.”

 

When we stepped into the Sportfisher touring office I noticed a four-foot Christmas tree blinking red and green. Next to it was a large yellow tub filled with snorkels, fins and diving masks. Ocean sand was scattered on the floor and most of the staff was barefoot. I could stay here a long time, I thought. As Sukey talked to the agent I kept hearing the Black Eyed Peas singing “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s going to be a good night,” there was no music playing but the song kept running in my head. What a difference a day can make. Yesterday was such a difficult day and today was delightful from the start.

 

We were led to our fishing boat. It was 50’ long, staffed with three crewmembers— a perfect fishing vessel. I loved the flying bridge, large decks and lounge couches. We set out to find blue marlin and leaving the harbor felt as grand we leaving St. Tropez or St. Barts. The sailboats, white beaches, hotels and cottages enthralled me.

 

“Oh Sukey, I am so glad we came. This is beautiful.” Sukey looked at me and grinned. She was as happy as when she watched the lions on safari. Casey was beside himself on the boat, climbing up and down the deck, running out to check the fishing lines and talking to Curtis, our guide. The fishing reels were bright gold gleaming in sunlight and as large as wheelbarrow tires. The hooks were several inches long and we had at least five lines in the water. The boat had a stereo softly playing and all of a sudden I heard the Black Eyes Peas singing “Fill up my cup, drink, Mozoltov!” A warm chill tingled down my spine as the boat played the song that had been in my head all morning. “Turn it up Curtis! Turn it up!” I shouted. Life has been very confusing lately. In many respects I don’t know where I am heading, I don’t know what’s in front of me and I don’t know what to expect. Yet I am learning to accept, embrace and enjoy the mystery of an examined but unknown life. This is a new way of thinking for me as my life a few years ago was characterizes by firm plans, predictability and anxiety and fear of the unknown.

 

One of the things that has helped me so much since I adopted Casey is the incredible amount of synchronicity I’ve experienced. I think of a song and an hour later I hear it playing. A stranger tells me about a book I’ve never heard about, and two hours later I see it in a window. A variety of coincidences, some simple some that defy all rational belief have been happening to me since I chose to become Casey’s dad. Though I don’t know where I’m headed, I interpret the coincidences as assurances from the universe that I am on a good path. Just when I get discouraged, confused, question my writing ability, my business acumen, my parenting skills or my capacity to love, something happens that lets me know that I am fine and the fears, doubts and anxiety are just old bugaboos—trying to dysfunctionally extend their influence on my psyche.

 

I sat in the cabin facing the open deck and fishing lines watching the sea go by in reverse. The water is so healing. Just sitting there watching the sea transform from jade to turquoise to blue was a priceless gift. Being on Nautica is fantastic, but looking out my cabin from deck 7 isn’t the same as being a few feet above sea level, moving 8 to 10 knots, feeling the spray of the Indian ocean on my face and arms.

 

We fished for three hours and never got a strike. It didn’t matter. We drank a few sodas, Curtis showed Casey how to set the lures, pilot the boat and climb the decks. We paid $660 for four hours and it was worth every penny.

 

“I think this is the place dad.”

 

“What Casey?”

 

“This is where we should leave it.” We were making our way back to port and I knew what Casey meant. I had brought a small piece of the center of a 170-year old tree from home with us and told him we would leave it someplace special.

 

“You mean right here?” He solemnly nodded. I got the truffle sized piece of wood from my camera bag and prepared to toss it in the sea.

 

“Wait! We have to do it together!” He held my hand and we threw our symbol from home into the ocean. It bobbed in the jade colored sea and Casey looked at me with a big grin. When we docked the other boat from our charter company had caught a blue marlin. They offered to let us take photos, so we did.

 

“Can I tell everyone I caught this fish dad?”

 

“Well, that’s up to you. There is a long tradition of telling fishing stories… so I suppose you could. You might feel bad about lying though.”

 

A mischievous grin appeared, “I won’t feel bad at all!”

 

We returned to the ship and I wrapped a few things with the paper I bought in Reunion. My dad loves the British Air socks that came in the first class amenities pack. I washed them all, and wrapped them for him. They are comfortable, stretch well and easily pull on and off. Casey checked our door—his stocking hangs on it and things seem to appear in it almost hourly—and discovered we had several notes. Casey was invited to meet Santa in the Grand Lobby on deck 5 Christmas morning to receive gifts, and our neighbors gave us a Christmas card.

 

My dad didn’t feel well, so Casey, my mom and I went to dinner without him. The meal was superb. The Grand Dining Room had caviar, lobster, prime rib, turkey and Caesar salad. The only thing missing was Pumpkin pie. When we returned to the cabin there was a white paper package tied with blue string on my bed. And inside is one of my new favorite things—a wooden keepsake box with a map of our trip and ports inlaid on the top. It was a gorgeous souvenir and I will treasure it long after this cruise ends. Before going to sleep I made sure Casey’s stocking was full for Christmas morning and I went to the 11:00 p.m. strings concert. There were less than fifty passengers in the Nautica lounge listening to the late night music, but I had to go. How often can I hear live musicians playing Christmas music on Christmas Eve? At the end of the concert the cruise director, Dottie, announced that the midnight service would start in about twenty minutes. As I left the lounge and waited for the elevator I saw two couples standing just outside the show room.

 

“I’m so tired, I don’t know if I can wait for the service,” one lady said.

 

“I know honey. Why don’t we go into the casino and stay there till the service begins. That will keep you awake!” Her husband suggested. As they walked the twenty feet from the show lounge to the casino I stifled a laugh. Only on a cruise ship could you listen to a live string version of Silent Night, then go to a casino before coming back twenty minutes later for a midnight Christmas Eve service.

 

Christmas morning I enjoyed cappuccino and pastries from room service while Casey got ready for Santa. When we arrived at the Grand Lobby at least a hundred passengers were milling about waiting for Santa. The daily schedule promised Santa would arrive at 9:30. Around 9:40, with no sign of the man in red, a few passengers started chanting, “WE WANT SANTA. WE WANT SANTA.” I caught the captain looking at the cruise director, Dottie, both of them holding back a laugh.

 

“Alright, alright,” Dottie said to the crowd, “Calm down. Santa is coming. Trust me. I know his schedule. Why don’t we sign Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer while we’re waiting.” We didn’t even get to “join in any reindeer games,” before Santa strolled in with a bag of toys and an elf helper. Camera flashes lit up the lobby—if Santa had been shy of paparazzi he would have run the other way—but he smiled, posed, shook hands and made his way to a special chair.

 

“I understand we have a young man named Casey aboard. Casey, where are you?” Santa’s voice boomed. Casey beamed as he and I made our way through the crowd. “Casey, I understand you have been a very good boy this year and I have some gifts for you. Is there an Anthony aboard?” Anthony come forward too. Both boys shyly smiled as cameras flashed and many grandparents beamed at them. Santa gave them each three gifts and then the captain came over to take a photo with the kids and Santa.

 

“Where’s your mom, Anthony?” I asked him.

 

“She likes to sleep in. In Argentina we like to get up at noon but I needed to come to see Santa.”

 

“Do you want to come with us to brunch?”

 

“No, I am going to walk around the ship.” He wandered off with his presents (each boy got headphones, an Oceania towel and backpack) and we went to Christmas brunch. My dad still wasn’t feeling well so he didn’t come with us to eat. I had eggs benedict, bacon, coffee and orange juice. I know I have complained about the orange juice on Oceania in the past, but today it was perfect. I think it’s actually improved! Casey had to leave early to go to a dress rehearsal for tonight’s Christmas show. He and Anthony are part of the entertainment, reading a few humorous letters from children to Santa.

 

After brunch Casey and I went to my parent’s cabin to listen to my dad read the Christmas story from Luke, and open gifts. My father was very emotional as he read it this year. A few times his voice cracked and his eyes welled up. After we opened our few gifts my mom took Casey on a scavenger hunt around the boat. It’s a tradition in our family to to find multiples clues to get a gift. As Casey and my mom roamed the ship (she hid clues at the concierge desk, waves grill, the laundry room and both our cabins) I talked to my dad.

 

“How are you feeling dad?”

 

“Not that great.” He looked tired.

 

“Are you depressed?”

 

“Maybe a little.” He was quiet.

 

“Well, I think you deserve to be. Your situation is depressing. You’ve never been prone to depression so feeling bad about the way things are going seems like a pretty natural thing to me. Maybe you could stay depressed for a while, feel the feelings, and then when you get tired of it or work through it we could figure some things out.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I just mean you should feel your feelings until you’ve felt them enough… then we can work on ways of making things better.”

 

“How?”

 

“Well, first of all we can work on you learning to receive. You are about the most giving person I know, but you aren’t very good at accepting help or receiving support. You’ve been giving your whole life and now it’s time to receive.” He looked skeptical. “Take dinner. Tonight is prime rib. You won’t like it, but I could cut your meat for you. Did you know last cruise there was a man onboard who brought someone along just to feed him and help him bathe? Sure this sucks, but we can make it easier. It’s a tough time, but we can still make the best of it. Your mind is still pretty good, we can have good conversations and there are lots of little things mom and I can do to make things easier. You just need to let us.”

 

“That’s not so easy.”

 

“I know. It’s going to be hard for you. But it’s good for you. It’s the way life is supposed to be—you can’t always be the one giving. Part of learning to give is learning to receive. Ironic that we are talking about this on Christmas day isn’t it? But it’s true. I promise you will be happier if you’ll let us help you now with some of the things you can’t do for yourself anymore. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I can’t make you choose to make things easier, but I am willing to help and mom is too. Believe it or not, we want to help you. Just as much as you’d want to help either of us.”

 

“Humph,” he cleared his throat. “It just seems like this is happening so quickly. I didn’t know it would be so fast.”

 

“I know. It’s very sad. But we also don’t know if things might stabilize or even improve a little from time to time. It’s possible the heat and humidity are making you more tired. You know dad, one of the things I admire and respect about you is they way you and mom have prepared yourself for whatever comes up. Your home is paid off, you bought long-term assisted living insurance 10-years ago, you have enough money in the bank, enough so that after you die mom will be well taken care of—but more than all that do you know what your greatest asset is?”

 

“You kids.”

 

“Exactly. You have four kids, all of whom will do whatever is necessary to make sure you are well taken care of and after you are gone make sure mom is fine. Your entire life you have been kind, compassionate and you have done your best to have integrity around your values. I can’t tell you what an important example that’s been for me. I don’t think I could have made it with any other dad. I don’t know why certain people end up with certain parents, but I believe I had the best chance with you.” His eyes welled up and he stared right at me. “It’s obvious to me in life that we don’t always get what we want, but I believe we always get what we need, and I am convinced I needed you. You are a great dad. I’ve met thousands of people and there are no two people I’d rather have as parents than you and mom. So, even though things are tough right now, trust me that from another perspective what appears so terrible won’t seem that way forever. I don’t know what’s in store for us. I don’t know what happens when we die, but I know this. Your mom and grandma are as real and alive to me as you are. I don’t know why, I know they died, but they aren’t dead to me. Death and disease aren’t going to end our relationship and someday, from some perspective, what appears so terrible now won’t look so bad in hindsight. You’ve lived your whole life in devotion to principles you believed in. God won’t let you down now.”

 

He nodded, “I know. I know that….” He said slowly and quietly. “But some days its hard to feel good about your life when you lose your memory and you can’t even turn your body to get out of a car seat.” I nodded in agreement.

 

“I think I understand a little. I’d hate to have your disease and I am certain I’d be depressed too.”

 

He flashed the hint of a smile. “Well at least I have you kids.” Just then Casey and my mom returned to the cabin. The final clue was in their room and it’s impossible to have a meaningful conversation with my dad when Casey is scavenging for a Christmas present.

 

That afternoon our trivia team took first place. We haven’t been first in about a week, so we were excited. Once again my dad was crucial to a winning answer—and we only took first by one point. After trivia Sukey, Carole my mom and I started discussing Christmas dinner.

 

“What time do you want to eat?” Sukey asked.

 

“Probably early. Casey has to be at the show by 9:20. Does 6:45 work for you Sukey? How about you mom and dad?” I asked.

 

“Your father isn’t going to have dinner.”

 

“What’s wrong Peter?” Carole asked. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

 

“Well,” he said slowly, “I have a headache and a little nausea.”

 

“I wonder if he has a fever,” my mom interjected. I felt his forehead. It was warm, but seemed normal.

 

“Why don’t you take him to the doctor Jack?” Sukey suggested. My dad agreed and I got my mom to let me take him so she didn’t have to wait at the medical center. When we arrived the center had just opened. Regular hours are from 8 to 9:30 a.m. and 6 to 7:30 p.m. We filled out a few forms and after a short wait we saw the doctor. He was a personable, intelligent man from Poland. His English was very good and his father-in-law has Parkinson’s. He interviewed my dad thoroughly and tested his blood, urine, glucose and gave him a complete check-up. When my dad was out of the room he handed me a piece of paper he printed from his computer about Lewy Body Disease. He had highlighted a section at the bottom.

 

“We will rule out any infection or dehydration but you know what this is? He asked as he pointed to the underlined words: “Lewy body disease usually beings between the ages of 50 and 85. The disease gets worse over time. There is no cure. Treatment focuses on drugs to help symptoms.”

 

“There is not so much we can do. I hope your father can stay, finish the cruise and make some good memories before we reach Singapore. He needs to eat and he needs to move around. I think if all his tests are clear we will give him a small does of steroids. This should improve his appetite. It won’t make things magically better, but it may help.”

 

“That sounds good. I’m going to go get my mom so she can talk to you too.” I went upstairs while we waited for my dad’s lab results. My mom looked a little worried. It was strange seeing her dressed elegantly for a shipboard Christmas dinner standing next to my father in the medical center with an IV line in his arm. The doctor explained the options and she and my dad both thought taking the steroids made sense. By now he had been in the medical center for about 45-minutes.

 

The nurse walked in and handed the doctor a report, “OK, here is the good news. Your white blood count is perfect, you aren’t dehydrated, all your lab work is excellent… are your eyes watering Peter?”

 

My dad shook his head. “No, I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

 

“Dad,” I said gently, “Maybe part of your loss of appetite is depression. Isn’t that a possibility?” The doctor and my mom nodded in agreement.

 

“I guess it’s possible, but I don’t know what it feels like.” This was true. I have never known my dad to be depressed till the last few years.

 

“Remember how you felt when you asked Mom to marry you and she didn’t give you an answer right away? It feels like that.” He laughed a little.

 

“If you ask her now I bet she says yes,” the doctor kindly told him. He looked at my mother and she smiled and agreed. We returned to the cabin, ordered my dad some soup and then went to Christmas dinner without him.

 

By the time we reached the Grand Dining Room it was packed. We were escorted to a table intended for four that had five place settings squeezed in. The Versace china didn’t look so good crammed into too small a space. All the waiters were busy and tuxedoed butlers had been brought in for reinforcement. One of them handed us menus. A few minutes later an assistant waiter brought us bread. I noticed that there were only four bread plates and I didn’t have one.

 

“Would you care for some bread sir,” the waiter asked.

 

“No. I don’t have a bread plate.” He looked embarrassed.

 

“Here dad! Share mine!” Casey offered. He loves to fix problems.

 

“No Casey. It’s fine.” How often I say “it’s fine” when really I don’t feel it is. I was a little upset that I was the only person at our table without a bread plate, but what I really cared about was that my dad wasn’t able to have Christmas dinner with us

 

We sat there for five minutes. White jacketed waiters hustled everywhere but none of them came to our table. I started to feel anxious. We needed to eat quickly to we could see the Christmas show that Casey was in. I hailed a headwaiter and he quickly came over.

 

“Hi. Do you know if we have a waiter? A butler handed us our menus and we haven’t seen a regular waiter yet and we are in kind of a hurry.”

 

Very politely he said, “Yes you have a waiter but they aren’t here now. I’ll try to help you in just a few minutes.”

 

“OK. One other thing. My father was just in the medical center and I want to take him a glass of buttermilk. Can you please bring one to the table and I’ll take it to his cabin?”

 

“I can send it there for you…” he suggested.

 

“No, I want to take it to him.” He nodded and left. A few minutes later a sommelier approached us. The last thing I needed right now was someone offering me a drink. He was a large, friendly man and he smiled at the whole table.

 

“Hi, everyone. Merry Christmas. Is there anything I can get you?”

 

“Yes!” I said too loudly. “How about a waiter.”

 

He looked aback. “Let me see what I can do about that.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Would anyone like any wine?” He helped Sukey and I felt ashamed of my rude comment. When he returned with her wine I motioned him toward me.

 

“Hey, I’m really sorry. My dad just spent an hour in the medical center, my son is in the Christmas show and we need to get done quickly. I’m sorry I was so rude to you. It’s our fault we are late for dinner not yours. Anyway, I apologize, I was feeling really stressed—and I’m sorry I took it out on you… I hope when you get off work you have a good time at the crew dinner. Anyway, Merry Christmas.”

 

“It’s all right. Today can be really stressful. I’m sorry about your father… and you already said Merry Christmas to me earlier today,” his eyes twinkled as he gave me a knowing stare.

 

“I did? I don’t remember ever seeing you…”

 

“You sat on my lap,” he prompted. A chill went down my spine.

 

“You mean you… you were….”

 

“Yep, I was Santa.” We both started started to laugh.

 

“I picked the worst person on the ship to insult on Christmas. I am so, so sorry.”

 

“Hey, it’s OK.” He leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “Look, we try really hard here. But on a night like this it’s almost impossible to give every guest the service we’d really like to give. Besides, you weren’t that rude at all. Merry Christmas. I hope you dad gets better.”

 

The buttermilk arrived and I took it up to my dad’s cabin. I watched him finish his broth. I rushed back to the dining room and enjoyed an exquisite mozzarella appetizer. The meal kept getting better. Despite the pressure of serving about 500 gourmet meals, the food was excellent. The headwaiter, the assistant waiter all worked together to make our meal perfect. It was like the Grand Dining Room was a grand prix racecar that almost crashed—but then corrected, accelerated and took first place. A waiter from another section who recognized me walked across the dining room to being me an ice cold Perrier I hadn’t even ordered. He just knows I drink them every night. The Virginia ham with a brown citrus glaze was the best I’ve ever tasted. The desserts were exquisite and the service, like the food, just kept improving. How do they do it? I marveled. How do they pull this off? It can’t be easy to make 500 Oceania guests happy at Christmas Dinner.

 

We got to the show and Casey had saved us a few seats near the front. Tom Drake read The Night Before Christmas, the housekeeping choir walked in dressed in angelic white robes, each carrying a candle, singing Silent Night. The string quartet played a haunting Celtic Christmas then Casey and Anthony read a few children’s letters to Santa. I was so proud of him on the Nautica stage, in a tie and Navy blazer, reading perfectly in front of hundreds of people. He has come so far in so short a time. A woman came up to me at dinner after Casey left and said, “I just want to tell you I’ve been watching your son since the cruise started. You and your wife have done such a good job raising him. He has fine manners and is so well behaved.” I thanked her and didn’t bother to explain the truth. Some things are easier left unsaid.

 

Toward the end of the show John, one of the entertainers, started singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. The stage was dark except for a blue light surrounding him. As he sang, “Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow,” I started to cry. This feels like my dad’s last Christmas. I don’t know if he will be dead, but the person who raised me probably won’t be here next year. I don’t feel angry, jealous or resentful about this. It’s just a fact—and it’s a difficult one for any child to accept about a beloved parent.

 

I love my dad. I appreciate all the Christmas memories he created for us, but what I really appreciate is his effort to keep the spirit of Christmas alive in our family every day of the year. What is the spirit of Christmas? I don’t know. I guess it’s a little different for everyone. Whether one is a Christian, Muslim, Pagan, Jew, Atheist, Hindu or something else I think it’s fair to say that the story of Jesus Christ is a story of hope, love, betrayal, death and resurrection. To me the spirit of Christmas is the energy of the Angels. The divine light and love that I believe is the birthright of every soul on this planet. I wrote my mom and dad a letter today. At the end I said, “Don’t ever forget. Angels watch over us.” Why I believe that’s true I don’t know. It just feels so resonant to me, and the older I get the more I trust my feelings. I believe the way to wisdom runs through the heart more often than it intersects the mind.

 

It’s a few minutes after midnight on Nautica as we sail toward the Seychelles Islands. Christmas is just over. After the show I went up to the deck. I wanted to see the stars. It was warm and lightly raining through the soft ocean breeze. Though the clouds obscured the stars, they couldn’t block the moon and a yellowish-silver moonset flowed from the heavens to the ship. No one else was on deck. I looked around as the chairs, pool bar and Balinese daybeds. I’ve had a lot of great memories here. I thought about all the things I had seen here with my parents—visiting the pyramids, hiking through Petra, touring India, enjoying long sea days and learning Bridge—and I looked to the sky and gave thanks. It really is a wonderful life and though I’m navigating through lots of rocks and shoals it’s OK. I’m going to come out the other side and new life, new adventure, new love and new experiences are waiting there for me to arrive.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

Jack

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

Today's post was wonderful. You really have a talent for expressing all your thoughts. So glad your Christmas Day was special even though your Father wasn't able to join in as much as you had hoped. Hopefully the tablets will make a small difference when they start to kick in.

 

Jennie

[dwelsh]

Jack: So glad that my barber story gave your dad a smile!

 

I lost my dad when I was 12, many years ago, but his entry in my autograph book says, " Those who put sunshine into the lives of others, cannot help but save a little for themselves." By your postings you are certainly doing that and your devotion to your dad will certainly provide you with sunshine the rest of your days.

[Mura]

<I sat in the cabin facing the open deck and fishing lines watching the sea go by in reverse. The water is so healing. Just sitting there watching the sea transform from jade to turquoise to blue was a priceless gift. Being on Nautica is fantastic, but looking out my cabin from deck 7 isn’t the same as being a few feet above sea level, moving 8 to 10 knots, feeling the spray of the Indian ocean on my face and arms.>

 

This is so true. When we arrived in Geiranger Fjord this past July my husband and I were going to cancel our reservation for the little tourist boat that goes down the Fjord since we'd already seen the scenery coming in. But we ran into friends who were planning on trying to get tickets at the last minute so we changed our minds and joined them.

 

We were so glad we did because we saw so much MORE being low down on the water. It was a repeat trip, but it looked SO different.

 

I won't make that mistake again!

 

Glad to hear your fishing day was such a success even if you didn't bag anything!

[JackfromWA]

Just a quick note to let everyone know my dad is feeling much better today. Whether it was the steroids the ship’s doctor prescribed, time or something else, my dad is definitely in less pain and more chipper today. He still plans to go with us to the Bagan Temples in Myanmar and tomorrow we are going to a hotel for the day in the Seychelles.

 

I’ll take Casey and his friend Anthony snorkeling. Earlier today someone asked Casey what nationality Anthony is. “He’s an Argentine,” Casey replied. They chuckled at his worldliness. I don’t know if he can find Argentina on a map, but he knows that his friend from Buenos Aires is an Argentine.

 

Nautica is spending three days and two nights in the Seychelles. These islands are reputed to be some of the finest in the world, so I am excited to see them, swim, snorkel and spend a few days in the sea and sand.

 

See you all in a few days!

 

Jack

[seasoned]

Dear Jack,

 

I'm so happy that your dad is feeling better today.

 

I've finally caught up with your posts. Your writing is so heartfelt and beautifully moving…please don't stop!

 

I have to pinch myself every once in a while to realize how fortunate I am to be cruising again with you and your parents. Despite your father's health, he is the same sweet person with the same subtle humor he had when we met in 2007. I deeply admire your mother's patience, strength and grace. And Casey...what can I say except that he has not only stolen my heart but he brought joy to my Christmas when I was desperately missing my family and loved ones so far away. You are accomplishing wonderful things.

 

-Sukey-

[Aussie Gal]

Sukey,

 

Lovely to hear from you. You are so lucky to be on board to be able to share time with Jack and his family. I hope you are having a wonderful "2nd" cruise after you "1st" cruise from Istanbul.

 

Jennie

[2thebrig08]

Jack,

 

Wonderful posts. I agree that we nominate your thread as best of the year!

 

I hate to admit it, but my wife and I are committed Holland America cruisers. Until now we have never booked Oceania. Your wonderful descriptions, both of your cruise, your ports and of course your families experience, convinced me to spend the money and try Oceania. We are meeting with our travel agent in Santa Barbara later this week and taking a Mediterranean cruise or Alaska on Oceania next summer. I'll let you know how we like it! We look forward to enjoying the ship, playing trivia, and having a memorable family vacation with our two children and their spouses. The food, service and smaller ship sound wonderful. I suffer from some physical ailments and I am glad you thought the doctor on board is good. Of course, we don't plan to use him, but one never knows.

 

Both my wife and I are delighted to hear your father is better and we wish you, your mom, your dad, and Casey all the best in 2011.

 

Happy Sailing!

[JoePDX]

Jack -

 

I'm so happy to hear that your Dad is feeling better. Wishing you a great visit to the Seychelles.

 

As Jeff and I drove to my brother's house in Vancouver on Christmas Day I couldn't help but remember your parent's tradition every time they cross the Interstate Bridge. So sweet. Let them know they have touched alot of people. I'm glad the Hovenier's are in my life. :)

 

Cheers,

Joe

[Paulchili]

Jack,

Glad to hear the good news about your dad. I hope he continues to improve.

Paul

[capecodder2]

You and your family will love doing an Oceania cruise together. In 2008 we took our 2 daughters, spouses, sister and friend on a Mediterranean cruise and had just the best time. We have been on Oceania 8 times so the cruise line wasn't in question and it was perfect. All I requested was that we have dinner together each night, otherwise, they could do what they wanted. We did plan a few group shore excursions together and met up with different family members at breakfast and lunches sometimes so we had time with each individually as well. We even ran into one daughter & husband on a vaporetto in Venice and the other couple at St. Mark's Square - so we ended up having plenty of time together. We would love to do it again. We ended up having the same table and staff each night we ate in the Grand Dining Room, they would hold it for a 7PM dinner - we always told them if we were not going to eat there. Happy cruisin'

 

Sorry to interrupt Jack's fabulous story which, like everyone else, I am following with keen interest as my husband may be beginning issues not unlike his Dad. We are just waiting to see what comes in the next year or so. Thank you, Jack.

[CintiPam]

Glad to read that your father is feeling better, Jack.

 

Thanks for continuing to share with us. We have had two huge family losses this last quarter of 2010, and reading your posts really has helped.

 

Best wishes for 2011.

 

Pam

[JackfromWA]

THE SEYCHELLES

 

Nautica’s stop in the Seychelles is Oceania’s first visit to this world famous tropical paradise. Some people say that these islands are as close to Eden as you can get. Originally we were only spending one night here, but because of the change in itinerary, we lost Zanzibar and Mombasa and exchanged them for Reunion Island and Mauritius and stayed two nights in the Seychelles. Although I regretted the safety concerns that necessitated the change, I loved Mauritius and the Seychelles.

 

Mahe is the capital. The entire country is only about 80,000 residents and it boasts some of the best beaches, resorts and climate in the world. Our first day I booked two rooms at the Le Meridien Barbarons Hotel. We invited Casey’s friend Anthony and his mother to come with us. We disembarked the ship about 10:45 and by 11:30 we were checked in. Cabs were plentiful and our driver was a very nice Creole man who had recently visited Ohio to attend a conference for the Gideons—the organization that hands out Bibles. He tried to encourage us to see more of the island than a hotel, and I am certain that was good advice. However, I promised Casey and Anthony I would take them snorkeling and I wanted my dad to be able to just relax in the hotel room.

 

As soon as we arrived the boys got ready for swimming, Anthony’s mom read and sunbathed on the beautiful white sandy beach and I got my parents settled. The temperature was in the low 80’s and so was the ocean. It was perfect weather and while Casey, Anthony and I snorkeled in the small bay around the hotel’s beach, my parents read and rested by the pool.

 

After snorkeling I came to the room to check on my dad. When I sat down on the bed I heard a crunch—I had broken my dad’s glasses!

 

“I am so sorry Dad!”

 

“It’s OK. I have another pair on the ship.” He didn’t seem too upset. I almost wished he had gotten angrier at my carelessness—it’s not like him to be so nonplussed. Casey and Anthony swam in the pool for hours. They laughed, splashed, yelled, ran—did all the things that I’ve requested Casey avoid on Nautica. Overall, Casey has behaved so well on this trip. Numerous strangers have approached me and complimented me on how well behaved he is. I just thank them and smile inside.

 

After I broke my dad’s glasses, Anthony broke one of his fins. I worked it out with the hotel and ultimately didn’t have to pay anything. The fins were “well worn” and the cracking was inevitable. The hotel was advertised as 5-star. The setting on the beach, location of the pool and the climate were 5 or 6-star. The service and room was closer to 3-star—similar to aan average US Marriott or Hilton. It was fine for us, but if I hadn’t used hotel points to pay for the room I would have been disappointed.

 

Later in the afternoon my dad joined us in the swimming pool. I haven’t swum with my father in years. When I was young my dad’s great uncle, Uncle Jake, has a gorgeous home and pool above the beach in Goleta, California. Many of my best memories are playing with my dad in Uncle Jake’s pool under the palm trees. We went there for at least two weeks every summer till I was 10. Uncle Jake was wealthy from a career as a wholesale florist and from selling a large ranch in Malibu in the 1950’s. He never married, had no children, and he considered my dad his son and my siblings and I his grandchildren. During the school year my father was always busy with work and church obligations, but during the summer at Uncle Jakes he played with us for hours, took us to Disneyland, watched TV with us and simply spent time doing what we enjoyed.

For many years I secretly hoped to buy my Uncle Jakes home. Notwithstanding the price (5-acres on the beach in Santa Barbara don’t come cheap), about 10-years ago I let that dream go. What I really wanted wasn’t the house, the land or the pool, what I wanted was the love, connection and feelings I had as a child with my father’s full attention, playing all day with my brothers, having my mom making sure we weren’t sunburnt while she brought popsicles to the pool, and my Uncle Jake singing to us off-key in his big Cadillac. I realize now that the closest I can come to recreating those times is to create them for someone else—I can be the dad my dad was to Casey, or to my nieces and nephew. My season as a dependent child is over, but my opportunities to be an adult are plentiful.

 

It had been a long time since I swum with my father. Now that I outweigh him by 100 pounds I grabbed him around the waist and tossed him toward Casey just like he used to do to me. He enjoyed it, Casey laughed, and it felt for a little while like everything was fine. Like my dad wasn’t sick—that the bad times were over, and that we could enjoy the rest of our trip and pretend al little longer that things were like they used to be.

 

But on the way home he started shaking badly. His hands were cold and they trembled uncontrollably. I could see he was scared. He looks that way a lot lately. We got back on Nautica and went to Tapas on the Terrace, the casual dining on board. The food is as good there as the dining room, and sometimes the service is even better. His hands shaking made it hard for him to get his spoon into his mouth. He had a difficult time lifting himself up from his chair after dinner. That night I went online and read more about Lewy Body Disease. I studied both factual and technical information as well as read anecdotal stories. The facts are that a person like my dad, who is otherwise in good health, will eventually lose their ability to eat, swallowing will become very hard, they become incontinent, they will lose the ability to walk and concurrently lose their memory, their cognitive ability and their passion. The most likely statistical probability is that before he dies my dad will spend several years in a near mute, vegetative state with little to no comprehension of what’s going on around him.

 

When I started writing here about this trip I never planned to write this story. I knew my father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Disease, but I believe, as did my mother and my siblings, that we had much more time. Apparently we don’t. Based on the past week it seems likely that we are in the home stretch of my dad being able to take care of himself independently. When we get home I don’t think he can drive. I worry about him walking on the ship. He is already wobbly and the motion isn’t good for him. If I could snap my fingers and go home with him now, I would. It’s not that we aren’t having a good vacation—Oceania is as fabulous as ever, at times even more so—but this environment isn’t the best place for my dad to be now, and if I had suspected that, we wouldn’t have come. Still, I believe that years from now I’ll be very grateful we had this extra time and experience. I thought about leaving all the challenges with my dad out of my writing, but I need to write an authentic story or none at all. I think the best thing about this story is that despite the horrific challenges, we are getting through them together. I know my dad is supported by prayers and huge outpourings of love, both here and from others reading. Even though it’s not the story I’d choose to write, it is the story I feel I need to tell, though I understand it’s not one everyone chooses to read.

 

That night, even though the ship was docked, my dad fell in his cabin around 3 a.m. Fortunately he wasn’t hurt. The next day he and my mom chose to stay on the ship, and I took Casey to visit La Digue, the fourth largest island in the Seychelles. Many island paradises boast having the most beautiful beach in the world. On the Seychelles, that title is usually awarded to Anse Source d’Argent. I wanted to visit this world famous beach, so when we got off the ship Casey and I approached an empty oxcart. On La Digue most people ride bicycles. Cars are strictly limited and rare. The cobble stone roads can also be traveled by ox cart, and that’s what we wanted to do.

 

“How much to go to the d’Argent beach?” I asked the Rastafarian looking ox cart driver.

 

“It costs ten dollars to go there and you must buy a pass from the government for fifteen dollars to enter.”

“OK, let’s go.” Casey had already climbed in, certain that I would hire this ride.

 

“We can’t go yet. I have to get more passengers. It can hold 10!” The driver protested. I could see other ox carts with 3 or 4 passengers aboard, but I agreed to wait. Shortly he filled the cart with two other couples from Nautica I hadn’t met before. Despite the fact I was wearing headphones, the woman next to me insisted on talking.

 

“Did you go on a safari in Africa?” She asked. Casey nodded.

 

“Yes,” I replied. “We went to Sabi Sands.”

“So did we. We loved it. Where did you stay?”

“We went to Kirkman’s.”

 

“Oh,” she said, looking toward her husband. “We stayed at Singita. Did you enjoy Kirkman’s?” She asked with a sense that enjoying Kirkman’s wasn’t possible.

 

“Actually, I loved it. I know Singita is nice, but I think it’s horribly over priced. Besides, if I am going to pay $1,500 per person a night for a room I want to do it someplace like the Banyan Tree where I can enjoy a private villa. Why would anyone pay that much money for a nice room in the middle of a game park if you are there to see the animals?”

“Well,” she said. “If you saw Singita I’m sure you’d understand.” I curtly nodded and turned the volume up on my iPod.

 

About 10 minutes later the driver said, “Alright everyone, we are here. You need to pay the entrance fee now.”

“Entrance fee! What entrance fee?” The Singita woman said. “We don’t want to pay any fees do we?” She glared at her husband and his Boca Raton golf nodded in agreement.

 

“I’m sorry you must pay the fee. It’s not for me. This is for the government. Otherwise we cannot proceed to see the turtles and the beach.”

 

“We have better beaches back in Florida,” she replied, “and we don’t need to see any turtles.”


“Oh, this is a problem. We cannot proceed without paying.” He looked confused.

“We want to go. We will pay. Who do I give the money to?” I asked. Singita woman glared at me.

 

“Do we have a choice?” The other couple from the ship asked. “We would rather turn around too.” The guide was even more confused now that his passengers had different destinations. In his zeal to fill his oxcart he assembled an incompatible group.

 

“Yes, you can all go back or you can all pay,” the guide said.

“We are paying,” I said. “We want to see the turtles and the beach. Can you take them back and get us in an hour?” I asked the driver.

 

“Sure, I will do that.” Casey and I started to walk away. “Sir, Sir, you must pay me the 10 euros each now!”

 

“You didn’t say ten euros. You said ten dollars.” He didn’t reply. We both know he was lying. “I’ll give you half now and half when you come back in an hour.” He didn’t like it, but soon the oxcart was turned around heading back to the ship. Casey and I watched the famous Seychelles turtles and then walked down to the beach. We sat in the water—in places the ocean was warmer than the air—and then we hiked down the beach, explored the rocks and spent a few hours just enjoying the sun, ocean and beauty of La Digue. I looked for the driver, but he never returned, so eventually we walked back to the ship.

 

That night we ate dinner again at Tapas on the Terrace. It’s easier for my dad than the Grand Dining Room. We sat outside and though the night was warm and refreshing with the light ocean breeze, my mom and I kept surreptitiously watching my dad to see if he could get food from his fork to his mouth. After he finished his salad I told him I would get his chicken Kiev and leg of veal. He didn’t protest so I brought it back from the buffet line and before he could complain I cut everything into small pieces. It’s the first time I’ve cut my fathers food. It felt good to help him.

 

The next morning Nautica sailed a few miles to Praslin, a very small island and our last stop here. Casey, Sukey and I booked a snorkeling excursion with the ship. One of my favorite Oceania staff, Raquel from Brazil, accompanied our group. As we set out from Praslin to Coco Bay on the catamaran the sky turned gray and rain started to fall. I sat on the bow of the twin hull on a small bench listening to Michael Frante singing The Sound of Sunshine Going Down. I looked to starboard toward Nautica and found my parent’s cabin window. The curtains were closed. Dark clouds hovered over the ship and obstructed the sun. I looked starboard and saw Casey dancing around on the deck. Some sunshine penetrated the clouds and basked him in sunlight. Behind him a small mysterious looking island passed by. It beckoned us me to explore it. This is a metaphor for my life, I thought. There are dark clouds over my parents—though they are safe on Nautica—and Casey is touched by the sun and behind him are new worlds to explore. The rain grew more intense, almost as strong as a Waikiki downpour. I stayed in my seat pelted by warm, tropical rain and listened to Michael Frants sing.

 

I wake up in the morning and it’s six o’clock

They say there may be rain but the sun is hot

I wish I had some time just to kill today

I wish I had a dime for every bill I’ve got to pay

Some days you lose you win

The waters as high as the times you’re in

So I jump back in where I learned to swim

Try to keep my head above it the best I can

That’s why—here I am

Just waiting for this storm to pass me by

That’s the sound of sunshine going down

 

Tears indistinguishable from rain flowed down my face. I’ve been trying to hard to keep my heard above it the best I can and here I sat, watching Nautica, thinking about my dad sleeping in his cabin, as I wait for all these storms to pass me by.

 

I used to hate these feelings. Everything about them bothered me. They made me uncomfortable, they were uncontrollable and most of all they were painful. When I quit using drugs and alcohol I learned that to be successful in long-term recovery I had to make peace with my emotions—I was an emotional cripple and I needed to learn to feel. As challenging as it is, I believe my capacity to feel the full range of feelings—not just the comfortable ones—is essential to my growth and development. So as difficult as this would have been for me to believe 20-years ago, I welcome these feelings. I am grateful for them. They are teaching me to be whole and they are appropriate to the circumstances I’m in. Just because I am happy most of the time doesn’t mean life isn’t often difficult.

 

The rain started to feel like hail so I finally sought cover. When we arrived at the snorkeling point we put on our gear and jumped into the ocean. The water wasn’t the beautiful turquoise blue I’ve come to associate with the Seychelles—it was Pacific Northwest gunmetal gray. Casey dove in after me and immediately a strong ocean current carried him 20 feet away. 

“Help Dad! Help!” He screamed. I swam over to him. He was crying and snot was running out his nose. He’d already removed his mask. “I hate this. I want to go back on the boat!” I could tell he was panicking so I held him and soothed him the best I could.

 

“It’s OK buddy. I’m going to pull you back to the catamaran, and if we have any trouble do you remember what Raquel said to do? We just wave our hands and they’ll come get us in the little Zodiac, OK?”

He nodded and I started kicking my legs as hard as I could to get us back. It took about 10 minutes to make it 100 feet back. It was the strongest ocean current I’ve ever swum in. Sukey also ran into trouble and immediately signaled for help. Once I got Casey on board I swam over to the crewmen helping her. By then the local excursion staff realized the current was too strong and they started transporting people to the island a few hundred feet away on the Zodiac. But it was too late for us. My legs were exhausted and Casey was done. We spent a few hours on the boat, watching the scenery, talking to other passengers, listening to the guitar playing deckhand and waiting till everyone else was done.

 

On the trip back I talked to Raquel. She has been on every Oceania cruise I’ve taken and we talked often on my first trip from Hong Kong to Athens in 2007 . She asked about my dad, she heard he had gone to the doctor, and she noticed that he was moving slower.

 

“Is he doing any better Jack?” Her Brazilian accent made her appear so exotic. Her swimsuit, the warm water and the sea spray didn’t hurt either—Raquel is beautiful inside and out.

 

“I thought he was, but last night he was stuck on Deck 9. He was waiting for the elevator but instead of pushing the up and down buttons he tried pushing the large up and down arrows.”

 

“Oh. That’s no good.” She said shaking her head. “My grandmother had Alzheimer’s it is so sad. It was very hard. My dad had cancer and died, my mother was very ill and of this was happening at once.”

“When did your dad die?”

“A few years ago.”

“And that’s for him?” I pointed to a tattoo on her back that said LOVE FOREVER PAPA.

 

She smiled, “Oh yes! That’s for my papa!” We both laughed.

 

When we returned to the ship I discovered my dad had a good day. Tonight we went to dinner at Polo, the steakhouse, and he ate lobster, prawns, a Cobb salad, filet mignon and a 7-layer chocolate cake. I tried to cut his food, but our waiter, Lukeman from Bali, caught me and insisted on doing it himself. Something in my father now attracts conscious people to help him.

 

After dinner Casey said, “Dad, I think everyone wants to help Grandpa. That’s really good isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I’m glad they want to help.”

“I helped too, Dad! Do you know what I did?” I shook my head. “Did you notice how long it took me to eat?”

 

“Yes, you were the last one finished.”

“That’s because I don’t want Grandpa to be last. So from now on when eat together I’ll chew really slow so he’s done before me!”

 

“That’s so thoughtful Casey. You are a really good grandson and a great son. I love you.”

 

“Love you too—I love you ten to the infinite power squared!”

 

The Seychelles was beautiful. So far on this itinerary, other than any good safari in Africa, the two places I want to return to are Mauritius and the Seychelles. Now we have two days at sea and on New Years day we arrive in the Maldives.

 

I wish all of you a Happy New Year and love, joy, peace, prosperity and good health in 2011.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

Jack

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

What a wonderful post. I am enjoying reading your posts this time around as much as when you were doing the Hong Kong to Athens cruise in 2007. I do hope you have many more happy days with your Dad before the Lewey Body Disease takes over.

 

Casey sounds such a lovely boy and so very thoughtful. He will provide you with so much happiness in the years to come.

 

I wish you and your family a very peaceful and happy 2011.

 

Jennie

[rubysue]

Hi, Jack - Thank you so much for the update. I have been anxiously awaiting your latest long post on your adventures. I'm sorry your Dad is having so many ups and downs; I had panic attacks a couple of times taking my 93-year-old Dad on a Mediterranean cruise, although he did not, at the time, have a rapidly progressing disease, just a lot of ailments that required close watching. Keep an eye on your Mom, too - this is probably stressful for her as well.

 

I would love to do the cruise you are on. The ports all sound so exotic, especially the Seychelles and Mauritius. Here's my New Year's hope for smooth sailing to the next destination. Thanks so much!

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

First, I have a correction. During the lecture from the Oceania Ambassador today I learned that I was mistaken when I said that Oceania was making the cruise credits for the length of previous cruises retroactive. I misunderstood and I’m sorry about posting that erroneous information.

 

Aussie Gal, Happy New Year and thanks as always for the encouragement and kind words.

 

DWelsh, the quote from your father really resonated with me. I’ve copied it down in a place I keep quotes that contain wisdom I try to live by. Thank you. So sorry you lost you father so young…

 

Mura, isn’t it great we can have great fishing days without a catch?

 

Sukey, you aren’t supposed to be posting here… you should be enjoying the cruise. Of course, I can’t really criticize you since I’m doing the same thing. Anyway, this is too public a forum to share my feelings about you. Just thanks. Thanks so much. You are starting to feel like family.

 

2the Brig, I am sure you will enjoy Oceania. I hope you booked your cruise!

 

JoePDX, I told my mom about the bridge. It made them both smile… and they are still kissing in new countries.

 

PaulChili, thanks for the kind word, and my fingers are crossed that my dad’s health remains good now the rest of the trip.

 

CapeCodder2, you can’t interrupt! This is a co-creative effort so please, write anything you want! I hope that your husband doesn’t have my dad’s issues… but if he does, do what you can as soon as possible. Life is short. Things like my dad’s illness bring that into focus.

 

CintiPam, so sorry to hear about your losses. I hope 2011 isn’t so full of them.

 

Rubysue, it is a great itinerary. I loved the Seychelles and I hope Oceania keeps going there. So much of this itinerary is new… I have high hopes for the rest of it too! I am keeping an eye on my mom, but thanks for reminding me.

 

 

CROSSING THE EQUATOR AND NEW YEARS EVE

 

The sound of the cabin phone jerked me out of a sound sleep.

 

“Mr. Hovenier?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This is the ship’s nurse. Your father is down here in the medical center. Can you please come down?”

 

I was scared. I didn’t know what had happened. The way my dad’s health has been declining it could be anything. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” It was 9:45. Casey had left the cabin an hour ago for French toast, hot chocolate and needlepoint with Anthony and Sukey. I stumbled around the cabin, grabbed the first clothes handy and rushed to the medical center without combing my hair.

 

As I walked in the nurse led me to the examination room. “What’s wrong Dad?” I blurted out.

 

“Not much. I just thought I should see the doctor about this bump on my foot.” My dad had developed a rash on his ankle. The night before he mentioned he might go to the doctor the next day. Relief washed over me. The doctor suggested he take some Cipro for five days. Fortunately I had a 10-day supply with me. I always carry ibuprofen, Aleve, aspirin, Imodium, Pepto-Bismol and an antibiotic on a trip like this.

 

The day continued to improve. My dad’s mind and agility seemed much better and he insisted on participating in the ancient mariner tradition of initiating souls crossing the equator for the first time. Though my parents and I have often crossed the equator by plane, this was our first sea crossing, and tradition, fortune and precedent demanded that we be transformed from Polliwogs to Shellbacks for the safety of the ship and our person.

 

At 1:30 we appeared on deck and the cruise director, Dottie, made us all solemnly swear that we were of reasonably sound mind, and adequate body and that we would pay homage to King Neptune in exchange for safe passage. Our metamorphosis was much easier than sailors crossing on a Navy vessel—on Oceania we have towels, showers and friendly staff—but all of us lined up, kissed a fish, got slimed and swore “Holy Mackerel” to King Neptune. My father was the only passenger I saw using a cane. He received a smattering of applause and King Neptune insisted that he need not kneel—instead the King came down to my dad and welcomed him to the International Fraternity of Shellbacks.

 

That evening we sat outside on the stern of Tapas on the Terrace as the sun set. Nautica was slowly cruising the Indian Ocean and the ship swayed with the rhythm of the sea as the yellow, gold and blue sky gently eased into a kaleidoscope of orange, red and purple ribbons till they slowly surrendered to the night. I’ve requested the headwaiters and maître d’s watch out for my father and cut his food into bite-sized portions. Though he can still use his fork and knife, its much better for him to expend his energy eating. The staff has been fantastic and they carry his plate to the table, cut his food, and make sure his buttermilk follows him from the Grand Dining Room to the Terrace Cafe.

 

This morning we had a mandatory lifeboat drill. When I arrived at the muster station I realized that we were on a different lifeboat than my parents. Casey noticed too. “Dad, shouldn’t we be with grandpa and grandma? They might need our help.”

 

“You’re absolutely right Casey. I’ll talk to the ship and see what we can do.” With Casey in tow I approached a security officer and explained if this really was an emergency that I wouldn’t follow directions to my muster station—that I would insist on going with my parents—and asked if some accommodation could be made in the very unlikely event there was a real emergency. They took care of it and now in a case of a crisis I am with my parents. I don’t want to defy a ship officer’s order in an actual crisis, so I was glad to get this resolved.

 

We enjoyed our sea day in route to the Maldives. The weather was warm and balmy and though the decks were fairly full, I always found an open deck chair. I spent part of the day working with Casey on his math homework. He is beginning algebra and I find some of the verbiage in his textbook confusing. He has eight math assignments to complete before we get home and we are only on his second. Since I don’t want to end the cruise with frustration, anger and tears, we established a schedule for homework on sea days. I help with math and science, my mom does his journal, geography and reading, and Bart, the ship’s trombonist, is giving him music lessons.

 

In a few days I am giving a lecture on the ship about the book I wrote in 2007, Cruising with Mom and Dad. I wasn’t going to speak on this cruise, but when I realized this is probably the last time my dad will have an opportunity to see me give a book reading, especially to such a friendly audience, I decided I needed to do it. I spent the afternoon rereading parts of the book, reliving old memories and planning what I was going to say on Monday.

 

When I went up to the computer room to print my lecture outline I saw Casey bent over a garbage can. When he stood up I realized he had a soda.

 

“Casey! What are you doing?”

 

Without thinking he lied. “Uh, I was walking by here and I saw a Coke that someone didn’t finish and I took a drink…” I stared at him doubtfully.

 

“Take a deep breath Casey. This time try telling me the truth. I’ll wait till you’re ready.” He paused, breathed and looked me in the eye.

 

“I’m sorry dad. I got a Roy Rogers (a coca cola with grenadine) and didn’t ask you.” I rarely let him drink Cokes. The last thing Casey usually needs is caffeine.

 

“Thanks for telling me the truth. I think a reasonable consequence is no sodas for two days, OK?”

 

“OK, I’m really sorry…” he looked so sad. He hates disappointing me.

 

The ship is decorated with hats, noisemakers and balloons for New Years Eve. There are three separate parties tonight: orchestra music in the Nautica lounge, piano music in Martinis, and pop music in Horizons. A few days ago I discovered something I didn’t know about holidays on Oceania. Polo and Toscana serve both the special dining room menus and their regular menus on Christmas and New Years Eve. I didn’t try to get reservations for either because I wanted the special dining room menu, but if I am ever on board during the holidays again I’ll try to make resevations in Polo and Toscana and enjoy the best of both worlds.

 

When Casey and I went to my parent’s room to meet my mom and dad for dinner, my dad was wearing a tuxedo. He looked quite debonair and there was a twinkle in his eye when he saw I was just wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt and slacks. I rushed back to our cabin and put on the one shirt, jacket and tie I brought. Ties aren’t a requisite on Oceania, but knowing that my dad and Casey had them I brought one too.

 

In hindsight I’m glad I did. We’ve been invited for dinner with the captain in a few days and I want to look my best. Usually dining with the captain wouldn’t me important to me. But this captain, Juric Brajcic, has been master of Nautica all three times I’ve sailed her. He runs a tight ship, he’s successfully repelled pirates and his home, Dubrovnik, is one of my favorite ports. So we will dress up for the captain, take photos and create one more memory. Neither my father nor mother has had dinner with the captain either, so it will be fun.

 

Tomorrow we reach the Maldives. My dad has had two good days in a row. He is moving better, his mind seems much improved and his headache has eased. I’d like to think it’s a permanent cure now that he is a Shellback, but I feel that the next few years with my father will be a slow tango of good days, bad days and sometimes a little of each in the same day. I’m so glad we’re here. My attention isn’t diverted to work or other commitments and I can be fully present with my mom, dad and Casey. I asked Casey last night what the best thing is about being on this cruise. Without hesitating he replied, “Spending time with you and Grandpa and Grandma and Sukey.”

 

On a long cruise everyone keep track of days his or her own way. Casey counts days by whether the ship made doughnuts or not (they make them fresh every other day and he knows which days they are served). I usually count my cruise days by sea days or port days—the day of the week is irrelevant—but this cruise, the main barometer for my mother and me is my dad’s condition. It’s a luxury to be here with both of them, with all of our day-to-day needs met, simply paying attention to my father, and enjoying his good days together, and learning from his bad ones.

 

Tonight at dinner my mom said, “This is the best I’ve seen your father the whole trip.” We both smiled.

 

“You’re right mom. He’s doing great. Do you realize we only have two weeks left?” She nodded. “Mom, I think today is the first day I’ve felt a little sad about going home.”

 

“Me too,” she replied. “And that’s why.” She nodded toward my father. Both of us delighted in having him with us for New Years Eve, fully present, full of life, smiling and having a good time. After dinner my parents went to the ship’s version of The Newlywed Game. The emcee made my father get up, walk to the stage and show off his tuxedo. He was called out as the best-dressed man on the ship. After the show the orchestra started playing and I noticed my parents had disappeared. I hoped they hadn’t gone to bed—it was only 10:45 and we had over an hour till midnight. Then I saw them. Dancing to the live music, my father leading my mom on the ballroom floor, moving a little slowly, but moving.

 

When we arrived to Horizons there weren’t any chairs. Normally I try to be polite, but with at least 50 open seats and every one of them claimed as “saved,” I did what I needed to for my dad and mom to have a place to sit to ring in 2011. The three of us huddled together, enjoying Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da and my parent’s don’t even like The Beatles. As the New Year grew closer I spotted Casey, zipping through the crowd like a wild puppy, throwing confetti, blowing a horn, laughing and high-fiving the crowd.

 

They say that what you do New Years Eve is a reflection of what you’ll do the coming year. I hope they’re right. There are many things I don’t know—the older I get the more aware of that I am—but one thing I am certain of is that there is no way I’d rather spend 2011 than in the company of my parents, both in good spirits, well fed, laughing, listening to music and eating fresh marzipan and pastries from roving waiters. At 11:59 the captain came on the ship loudspeakers and counted down to midnight. At the stroke of 12, noisemakers, champagne glasses, horns and confetti erupted everywhere. My father stood up, my mom looked in his eyes and they kissed many times. I saw a tear in my father’s eye as he tightly held the women he has loved dearly for most of his life.

 

I kissed them both—I’m old enough now to kiss my dad in public again—but I don’t expect the same from my son. He’s only 12. A few minutes later I saw Captain Brajcic make his way toward us as he wished everyone in Horizons a Happy New Year. As he approached our table I leaped to my feet to shake his hand. “Happy New Year, Jack,” he said. The captain is a tall, commanding figure with just enough gray hair that I trust him. He looks like a man I’d want to follow.

 

“Thank you Captain. Happy New Year to you.” As I congratulated the captain, my dad grabbed both arms of his chair, and just a little awkwardly stood up to politely greet the master of Nautica.

 

“Pete, Pete!” the Captain complained. “Please. Do not get up for me,” still the captain extended my father his arm and helped him to his feet. “I wish you the best in the New Year Pete. I hope you have a very good New Year.” I was surprised. I didn’t know the captain knew my father’s name. I could tell he knows my father isn’t well. Whether he gets a medical office report or is just a keen observer, he is aware of what happens on his ship.

 

“Thank you. Happy New Year to you,” my father said. The captain shook his hand again. He smiled a little longer at my dad than I saw him smile at anyone else, then he moved along to greet the other passengers.

 

I know all the days in 2011 won’t be like this. But the past two days have been the best of the cruise. My father feels like the man who raised me, my son is having the time of his life, my mother has had a little weight lifted as she enjoys the man she loves and I’ve delighted in being with three of the people I love most in the world.

 

My parents and I returned to our cabins as 12:30. When we turned in Casey was still running around the ship, dancing to YMCA, singing Celebration and having the best New Year’s Eve of his life. He has taken to life on Nautica and he will miss it when we get home.

 

Wherever you are, I wish you and your loved ones a Happy New Year.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Jack