Mother Sister Daughter

One of the things we more or less anticipated when we left on our circumnavigation was that our families’ lives back home – parents, siblings, children – would continue to unfold without regard to our absence. We knew we’d miss birthdays, anniversaries, holiday reunions, a birth, graduations, and as sure as the pages on a calendar turn, they have come and gone as we’ve sailed our way westward. I think we knew in our heads that our immediate and extended family members would also experience the unexpected…the marriage proposal, the new job, a college acceptance, and, in the back of our minds, we understood that some of our family members would also experience the other side of surprise: a sudden illness or injury, a loss, a profound disappointment. As our trip has unfolded, we've found that missing the "good" events has brought pangs of regret but no lasting sorrow. Not so with the "bad" events -- not being present for our kids, our siblings, our parents has proven to be far more difficult than we imagined. In some sense, we've been lucky because for the most significant episodes, we've been able to suspend our trip and have one of us -- Jennifer -- return home. Early in our trip, we encountered our first episode as we sailed the boat down the east coast of the US (when a three-day trip seemed to demand lots of planning and forethought!): our daughter had an accident requiring surgery. Then, it was no big deal for one of us to fly to Denver to be with her.

Later, as we sailed to the Galapagos, Kate again needed surgery; this time, it was a bigger decision for us, given the distance, but again, logistics were such that one of us could fly back and be with her. As we sail further and further west, into more remote areas of the planet, our extended families’ unexpected and unwanted medical issues continue to emerge – to be sure, no more or less frequently than any other large family – I have 5 brothers and my father; Jennifer has a sister and two brothers and her mother; together we have 16 nephews and nieces. With the internet permitting regular and relatively reliable access to our families’ lives, we find ourselves continuing to feel a homeward tug whenever we hear about someone facing a serious medical condition … feeling perhaps that if one or both of were physically present, then somehow that family member’s prognosis or experience would somehow be improved.

We all benefit from the presence of family during difficult times, so it’s hard for us to sleep peacefully on a well-equipped yacht in a beautiful harbor when we know someone we love is in pain or distress. While Jennifer and I like to joke that she’s covered with emotional Velcro, and I’m coated with emotional Telfon, the characterization hits home uncomfortably when such news comes across our emails or Skype phone calls. I take note of the unhappy news, and respond, if you will, logically – what can we do to help, etc. Jennifer feels the pain or distress personally, as if it’s happening to her.

Recently, and each for different reasons, news from Jennifer’s mother, sister, and daughter has arrived to tug at her and our heartstrings from half a world away. Can there be a more important troika than a mother, a sister, and a daughter? In particular, her mother, after a long life of loving motherhood and caring service as a school diagnostician, has become increasingly frail with the years, and this week took a sudden turn for the worse. The size of our family assures that there is a significant and responsive local support network to anyone in need, and this makes it less difficult for us to absorb these surprises, and it was clear to Jennifer’s head that each of three women was in good hands, relying on varying combinations of inner strength, family support, and friends and colleagues. But Jennifer’s heart was another story.

As a sailing couple, in the intimacy of a small boat, it’s impossible to hide one’s feelings from the other, so any untoward news from home hits us hard, even if one of us is Teflon-like in his overt response. It becomes hard for us to concentrate on the boat chores, or planning the next adventure when, rationally or not, we feel like we belong with one of our parents, our siblings, or our kids. Jennifer and I spent an evening talking it through, against our previous plans to leave Bali in a few days for South Africa, and once we determined that the requisite visa and cruising permits could be modified, it was an easy decision for Jennifer to book her travel. While news of her mother’s turn for the worse was the driving event for our decision for Jennifer to return home, we’d have to say that the earlier news from her sister, and the fact that our daughter, Kate, is again undergoing major surgery – again the result of her inherited genetic condition – also contributed to the conversation.

Thus, in response to a near perfect storm of these ups and downs, Jennifer is en route to the States, halfway around the world from the boat’s location in Bali Indonesia. It’ll take her three flights and 36 hours to travel to Austin, Texas from here, via Taipei and Los Angeles, where her motherand sister live.

We are blessed to live in a world of airplanes, and to have the logistical and financial where withal to have it both ways – to maintain a cruising lifestyle, but, when our far-away family circumstances take an unexpected turn for the worse, to be there with them … as much for our own sakes as for the sake of our family members. Because, it seems to me at least, facing these issues from a faraway boat, that care-giving and care-receiving each brings its own blessing, and its own relief. Jennifer needs to be with them, for her sake, perhaps as much as any or all of them need her comforting presence. Our trip will be delayed a bit, but our voyage will be more complete somehow for these returns to family and home, containing, as it will, a swirling mix of local adventure, faraway surprises, and a blend of physical and emotional connectedness with our families.

So in a few days, Jennifer will be with the three women that matter the most to her: her mother, her sister, and her daughter, the four of them forming a perfect union of souls. As unfortunate are the circumstances of this re-union, to this husband, son-in-law, brother-in-law, and father, I feel as if each of them will be exactly where they should be – together with each other, in Austin, Texas. For the duration of Jennifer’s visit home, our boat will bob quietly at anchor; the moon will continue to wax; the trade winds continue to blow, and the Indian Ocean will just have to wait its turn to take its toll on our tiny vessel.

I’m learning that voyages are more than just the sum of passages; they encompass journeys of the heart and soul as well, and, in Jennifer’s and my case, a deepening melding of our lives. Writing this as her plane passes overhead, my thoughts and prayers go out to my wife, and to her mother, her sister, and our daughter, as they come together under a blue Texas sky.