Across an Ocean of Waiting

Family scattered across the world, grief close at hand, and the quiet patience of waiting.

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These past months have been a season of travel, goodbyes, and quiet adjustments.

Now, I’ve made it back home.

Back to the quiet winds and wide horizon of St. Paul Island, where life feels small and steady again.

I’ve been away since January 2. Before that, I had been traveling almost nonstop since the end of September.

It has felt like an endless loop between Alaska, Wisconsin, and San Diego.

The travels were hard, but they were also deeply meaningful.

I made two trips to see Tabby. I spent time with Simon and Maggie in Wisconsin, and many days with my family there as well. I also made a side trip to Alabama to celebrate my mother-in-law’s 95th birthday. Gideon was able to meet us in San Diego and Wisconsin, twice. That alone felt like a gift.

I am so thankful for that time, for the love we were able to share, and for the simple blessing of being together while we could.

Our family is literally spanning the globe.

Sometimes I open Life360 on my phone and look at the map. I have to zoom way out to see all of us.

Alaska.

Wisconsin.

Texas.

And the last place her phone appeared before it went dark at sea.

I find myself checking it more often than I probably should.

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Learning Life Without Mom

I still catch myself speaking about my mother in the present tense. It isn’t something I force. It just comes out that way naturally.

In many ways, it still feels like she is here.

Sometimes I even catch myself thinking, I should call Mom and tell her about this.

Dad is doing okay, but these past few months have taken a toll on him. He’s waiting for a place in assisted living, and I spent much of this time with him, helping him begin to adjust to life without Mom by his side.

At 93, finding a new normal is not easy.

For most of his life, he was the provider, the one who took care of everyone else. Now he has to learn how to receive care. That is a role he never really prepared for emotionally. Truthfully, none of us did.

But he is doing the best he can.

It’s a slow process, but it is a forward one.

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The Long Wait

I am grateful to be home again.

Right now, I need Carlos.

We haven’t heard from her in over a week. Her last message said she needed to turn off her phone and that we likely would not hear from her for at least three weeks.

The last we knew, she was on a ship.

So we wait.

I remind myself not to dwell on what I cannot change. I’ve connected with a few mom support groups and check in with them from time to time. Beyond that, I’m trying not to watch too much news. There’s far too much speculation there and very little peace to be found in it.

For now, we wait.

Meanwhile, life keeps moving in small, ordinary ways. Dad is learning how to accept help. Carlos and I settle back into the quiet rhythms of home. Messages travel slowly across oceans and time zones, and love stretches across them.

Our family is scattered across the world right now, but we are still connected in the ways that matter most.

For now, that has to be enough.

This is simply the season we are in.

And in many small ways, I still feel like Mom is walking through it with us.

If you are waiting for someone you love right now, you understand how wide an ocean can feel.