Beach

In a few days we will embark on our yearly trip to the Jersey Shore - Wildwood Crest, NJ for Ukrainian week.  I'm looking forward to the trip but it's bittersweet this year because my parents won't be joining us for the first time in years.  My dad can't make the trip and my mom has decided to stay with him - she can't imagine leaving him at this point.  I offered to stay with him for a few days so she could get a few beach days in, but I think she can't bear the thought of being at Wildwood without him.

When we were there last year the thought entered my mind a few times that it might be our last summer at the beach with Tato.  After all, within a year ALS had progressed from a mild slur in his speech to using a feeding tube, breathing with a Bipap machine at night and a general increase in fatigue that made the six block walk to the beach almost impossible.  Whenever these thoughts would enter my head I would quickly chase them away.  I couldn't stand the thought of being there without him.  Yet here we are.  I also never considered the fact that if he wasn't at the beach that my mom wouldn't be there either.  But how could I not?  This past year, particular these past few months, have shown me what it means when you say "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health" when you get married.  My Tato has always been my hero, but now so is my mom.

I started the Wildwood tradition the summer before I went to college - making the trek with my friends, staying in a run-down boarding house, sitting at the back of the beach in front of the Pan Am hotel, eluding the cops at night since most of my friends were under the curfew age of 18.  My parents started coming the following year but I never actually stayed with them in the same place until years later.  The first official Wildwood summer of my adulthood was the summer that my son was born.  I was on maternity leave and my parents had a place at the beach with three bedrooms.  We decided to join them and a tradition was born.  My kids have never missed a summer at Wildwood since then - this will be our eleventh year.

I have a feeling that it will be an emotional week.  Thankfully we are staying at a new place.  We had stayed at the same place for six years in a row - staying there now would have been much too difficult.  Too many memories there of my dad making his famous salsa, mixing up his killer margaritas, playing his guitar, singing, dancing, etc.  Since it's Ukrainian week it is inevitable that we will be asked the never-ending question "How's your dad?"  The answer is never easy. 

I know my mom will be back with us at Wildwood one day, but my dad won't and that's hard to take.  I can't dwell on it though.  I have to remember all the great times we had and hold onto them.  We will make salsa and margaritas in his honor and I'll bring my guitar and try to carry on the musical traditions that he started.  I will dive into the waves and think of how the ocean shaped his life, both professionally and personally.  I will encourage my kids to follow in his footsteps, to try new things and to live life to the fullest.  This is what will carry us through.