Chapter 13: Day 3: 4:35 PM

The Sea Goddess is heading south-west in the golden glow of the late afternoons sun. Its twin six hundred horsepower Evinrude engines are cutting a long v shaped wake in the indigo sea. To my left are the verdant green hills of the island. They look new, untouched. No houses, just grass and the occasional lonesome tree. The island is one point five million years old. People have lived on it for over a thousand years. Europeans have been here for only two centuries. Yet this part of the island still looks unscathed by the assault of man and will no doubt outlast me and all of humanity. The thought humbles me. Our existence is so momentary, such a small speck of time, that we might not have existed at all. Except we did.

The thought of this makes me stare at the two light grey Grecian style urns at my feet. They are not from antiquity. They are a product of advanced science and modern sensibilities. They are ecologically neutral containers designed to hold the ashes of the dead. When placed in the ocean they will float until the bottom of the urn dissolves and releases its content into the sea. Then the container will dissolve until it is just a blur in the water. Their existence blending into the vast. The two urns at my feet are covered with written messages of love and remembrance from Del, Liam, Hadley, and Sam. I am the only one who has not added a note.

Despite my fears of being late, I was the first to arrive at the Sea Goddess.

She is well maintained, white, and about 45 feet long. She does not look like a fishing vessel as there isn’t an angler’s chair, crow’s nest, or bait box. Instead, she appears to be a boat designed for cruising and day trips where comfort is king. I see no one on board and for a moment I have that sinking feeling you get when you think you have fouled things up and arrived at the wrong destination late. I am about to consult my phone to make sure I have not made a dreadful error when I feel a tap on my shoulder.  

I turn around and see a woman about 5’5” with a muscular build, honey brown skin, wide oval face, large brown eyes, and full lips that do little to hide perfect white teeth. Her long wavy black hair is tied in a ponytail routed through the back of a navy-blue baseball cap with “Sea Goddess” embroidered on its front. Her age is hard to guess because despite a life spent under a tropical sun her skin is flawless. She has an air of confidence about her, as if nothing can defeat her, yet her smile is broad, warm, and inviting. She says, “Are you here with the Ryan party?” When I nod my ascent, she introduces herself “I am Captain Namaka. The Sea Goddess is my ship. Please call me Nam.”  

I introduce myself and she responds with “Maikaʻi ka launa ʻana me ʻ” which I know means
“nice to meet you in Hawaiian. We shake hands. Her grip is strong, and I instantly get the feeling that I know her. As we step on board I see an exceptionally large man wiggle through a small cabin door inside the covered lounge. As he approaches, I realize that he is not just large, he is enormous, at least 6’ 6 with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He too appears to be native born, his thick, dark curly hair tied in a top knot. He has an engaging warm smile, but you get the sense it can go from friendly greeting to growl in a flash. Nam introduces him as Moe, her mate. When we shake hands, mine disappears into his like a child’s into an adults.

Nam gives me a quick tour of the boat. The aft seating area includes a wraparound couch that outlines the stern and a single seat facing the rear. The cabin area includes a small four-person table for eating or conversing, a “con” area for the captain including radar, radio and operational controls and a large well-padded chair for whomever is at the helm. There is also a tiny “head,” no bigger than a large broom closet. Nam says can be used for “#2”in a pinch but would prefer to keep it for “1.”  Forward of the cabin is the bow seating area with two, three person “couches” that form a “V” at the front of the boat.  Tour over, I take the single seat just short of the main cabin that faces aft. Moe asks if I would like a bottle of water and when I say yes, he reaches into a built-in cooler and pulls out a small bottle of Fiji water. I am just about to attempt a small joke about the brand of water when the rest of our party arrives. 

First on board, wearing a matching set of aqua colored shorts and blouse that look as if they have been pulled from the “for seniors only” bin at TJ Max is Delilah. Her eyes are covered by a pair of dark, oversized polygonal sunglasses that make her look more bewildered than sophisticated. Her church lady smile is plastered on, and she greets Kam with the same tone of voice she used to speak to Con after they had fought, all saccharine, and no sugar. It instantly sets my teeth on edge and dredges up the deep anger I thought I had diffused.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath through my nose, exhale through my mouth. There is no time to meditate now but I try to focus on compassion. Despite our differences and my personal animosity for her, it is a time where we should support each other. This promises to be a tough afternoon for everyone and I will not let past grievances get in the way of what brought us here today. But I find it impossible to forget that she is the founder of this day. If not for her, we would not be here.

Del introduces Kam and Moe to the rest of our group. First, Sam, Del’s new husband, who boards wearing Docker’s khaki shorts and a lavender colored unbranded polo shirt carrying a large Styrofoam container. He is followed by Hadley who looks elegant in billowing white pants and boatneck three quarter sleeve navy and white striped tee. Liam is last. He looks as if he is out for a round of golf. A pair of Nantucket red shorts with a tucked in baby blue Vineyard Vines polo shirt. He too is carrying a large Styrofoam container. He and Hadley are wearing matching Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses.

Introductions over Del comes over to where I am standing and presents her cheek to me saying “I am so glad you are here.” I don’t believe her. But that is okay. I am here because I want to be here. I need to be here. That is what friends do. That is what Uncle Danny’s do. They show up. Besides, I am too mindful of what those Styrofoam boxes contain and the grief they represent to say anything other than “me too.” Sam shakes my hand with a firm grip and a little nod. I want to tell him “Good luck. You are going to need it.” But no doubt he knows that, so I squeeze his hand a little harder than he is squeezing mine and return his nod. Hadley gives me a warm hug. I do not know her well but enough to know that she has a generous heart and is a fierce protector of Liam. Her hug makes me feel welcome and I return it with affection.

Liam is last. He puts down the Styrofoam container to give me a hug that would make anacondas envious. He whispers in my ear “I am glad you are here Uncle Danny.” I hug him back and try not to embarrass myself with a damp face. This young man has been through so much in the last couple of years. He has handled it so well, but I know the depth of his hurt and in that moment, I just want him to know that I will be there for him as long as the heavens and fate permit. I whisper back “Where else would I be.”  

I do not know what to write on my friend and nephew’s urns. I want what I say about these two men I loved to be the definitive goodbye. The words everyone else on board wished they had written. Part of this is my competitive nature but is fueled by my lingering resentment. It is hard for me to shelf my anger at Del. As much as I have tried, I still cannot get past the fact that she is largely responsible for the death of these two people I cherished. 

I look up. Both Duke and Con are standing in front of me. They are dressed identically in light blue Hawaiian shirts covered with topless hula dancers; white board shorts adorned with vermilion hibiscus flowers. Both are wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses and trucker hats with a screen-printed Ralph Steadman drawing of Hunter Thompson

Con says, “Writer’s block?”

Duke adds “Can’t figure out all the nice things to say in such a small space?”

I reply “Not helpful guys. I am on a deadline here.”

Duke says, “A pun?”

“Yes. But unintentionally. I have to figure out what to say soon.”

Con asks “Why do you have to write anything?”

“Well, because I want these folks” pointing to the forward sitting area where Del, Liam, Hadley and Sam sat “To know the loss I feel. How much I love and cherished you both and do so in a way that they know I know who is responsible for all this.”

Duke says, “Why does that matter that they know?”

Before I could answer Con chimes in “What was it that your friend Des said? Wasn’t it something like “there is no unfinished business. I know who loved me and the people I know how much I love them.” Dude, we know. We have always known… What you did. Be satisfied with that. If karma catches up with him, so be it. If it doesn’t that’s okay too. Somewhere deep inside of her she knows what she did and what she did not do. Either that will bother her in the dark of night or it won’t. Nothing you can say or do will change that. Move on and let her struggle with her own forgiveness. And what was it your father used to say all the time” You can lead a whore to culture, but you cannot make them think.”

I reply “Yeah, he was quoting Dorothy Parker with his own twist, but I take your point.”

Duke adds “And Uncle Danny, didn’t’ you once tell me that saying nothing at times is more powerful than saying anything? “

We are interrupted by Captain Namaka.  Eyebrow raised; she looks at me curiously and says “Have you decided what to write on the urns yet? I don’t want to rush you, but we are getting close to where we want to release them so if you are going to write anything, now would be the time.”

I smile and reply “Yeah, I’m done. I am not going to write anything. They know how I feel. I didn’t hold out on them while they were alive. There is nothing left to say.”

Nam grins, her white teeth gleaming and says “That’s the way to do it. Leave nothing left unsaid. Your friends are pretty smart.” With that she picks up the two urns and walks over to a small stand adjacent to the swimming platform that Moe has covered in red hibiscus, plumeria and white orchids and places my nephew and friend’s urn on top. I am slack jawed. I know the conversations I have had with those who are no longer here, while real to me, exist only in the fragments they left of themselves with consciousness. How then could Nam overhear my conversation with Duke or Con? Was she was speaking in generalities or could she see more than most?

Mo throttles back the engines and then cuts them completely. Around us the deep blue of the ocean is gilded with the light of the late afternoon sun, each swell perfectly accentuated in relief. With the engines silent there is no sound except the gentle lapping of waves on the hull of the boat.

Before we left the dock Nam told us she was taking us to was Maalaea Bay. It offers a glorious view of the Maui coast and is where humpback whales, dolphins, and false killer whales often feed in the late afternoon. When I told Kam I have never heard of false killer whales, she explains that they are the rogues of sea mammals. Too small to be Orca’s and too large to be considered dolphins, whom, she added, they sometime feed on and occasionally have sex. When I said this sounds like a complicated relationship, she giggled. What I don’t say, but think, is that they sound like the “Con” of the sea.

Del, Sam, Liam and Hadley come aft.  Kam and Mo retreat into the cabin gracing us with a little privacy. We form a semi-circle around the small altar created for the urns. Hadley and Liam on my right, Sam and Del on my left. Directly opposite me, sitting on the gunwales, and smiling are Con and Duke.

For a moment we stand in awkward silence then Del steps forward and standing with her back to the alter, raising her hands up in the air says, “Let us pray in Jesus’s name.” I know this is how the faithful pray in her religion, using their hands as if they are the solar panels for god’s love but this act and her invocation of Jesus’s name immediately puts an end to my listening to anything she has to say. This is not disrespect for her religion or coreligionists. Any way a person can find peace in this world, a way to their god, I think is wonderful. This is about Del’s sanctimony and hypocrisy. Throughout her divorce from Con she would quote scripture as justification for her conduct yet when it came to the major teachings of Christ, forgiveness, and compassion, she seemed ignorant. When it came to Duke, she forgot what the bible tells us about caring for the sick and infirm and she let him die.

I know I need to move beyond my anger. I need to learn the art of forgiveness. But, listening to her intone words of faith when she has proved that they are nothing more than a way to justify how she feels, is too much for me.

Instead, I try to focus on the miracle of now. I am in the middle of a golden ocean, off an island many describe as paradise, on a planet that has, against all odds, given birth to life. We are here to celebrate the lives of people we love, a miracle in itself considering the incalculable odds of loving two people in a world of billions, in a galaxy of four thousand solar systems and a universe of 100 trillion galaxies. That is my prayer. That is my miracle. My way to God.