I thank all of you who have responded to my post about my father and I find it even more humbling that there were so many kind words and thoughts. He was a very well liked and respected man and Tim was a funny and very nice kid. I remember that moment like yesterday. I am writing a book about him and my goal is to have it published in his honor by this time next year. With all due respect to all of my family and after much thought, I would like to share my story of that night. Forgive me if it brings any sadness, but I feel these two guys are fishing steelhead together in another dimension. And guess what, they just keep biting!

I pulled up next to the boat and my Dad and my cousin Timmy were struggling to get a massive tow of pink shrimp to come aboard the 56’ Miss Lisa. She was a good boat and I had spent most of my summers with my Dad and my brothers throughout my teenage years. I loved that boat and she took care of my family for many years. She was built to crab and fish tuna and to see her grunt and pull on the huge pink colored cod end full of shrimp, and to see the bag almost clear the rail… only to be released back into the water for another attempt. It was almost as if the old girl let out a big huff of air and was relieved to have the weight off of her. The ocean was as flat as a lake that night and it was very dark. And then almost magically, a very small swell came underneath us heading towards them and the winches started hauling up again and this time there was success! With a mighty thud, the pink bag of shrimp slammed aboard. It was a record tow for them weighing in at about 7,000 lbs! I heard a loud cheer from my cousin and we took some photos and idled away from the boat, back to the task of cleaning our own table full of shrimp. Little did I know that was the last time I would see the Miss Lisa, my Dad and my cousin.

I woke up the next morning and the sun was up. The Frank and Maria lay very still as the ocean was like glass. My crew was asleep and they had worked the entire night sorting the smelt fish from the shrimp. There was a conversation going on one of our group radios, and it was my cousins Larry and Conrad. There seemed to be something wrong, and I was concerned, but I remember walking into the galley to make a pot of coffee. After that long night, it was going to be a priority this beautiful April morning. When I walked back up the steps into the pilothouse, they had stopped talking and I called my cousin Larry to see what had happened. He told me to sit down. The first thing I thought was, “That is what they say in the movies right before you are going to get some bad news. I actually thought that thought! Then he said, ” The Miss Lisa hit the rocks last night, Timmy has drowned and they can’t find your Dad.” Things started to get numb real quick. I was stunned like never before in my life. This was simply a dream I thought. I stayed there for a minute and I remember walking down stairs and telling my crew what had happened and I that they would need to drive the boat in. I was thinking about my mom at that point, that she would need me. I walked into the bathroom and slid to the floor and started to cry.

It is the moments like these that shape our lives and create sadness, loss, grief and a multitude of other emotions. Although this story still seems like yesterday to me, it was a very long time ago. That one event in that small town changed many lives for many years to come. It is a time when people need to dig deep for answers and healing. Our family, like many has been no stranger to tragedy in more cases than this. It is a time to choose the path that you want to travel forward on, a path of strength through your spirituality and healing or a path of loss and agony. I know it never gets easier, and I thank God every day for the good days I have and the health of my family. Sometimes that is all that matters at the end of the day.

It took a long time for me to realize that I was living my father’s life. I was trying to extend his legacy and to keep his story alive. Some 15 years later I finally came to terms with his loss and realized that I was only a chapter in his book, and that it was time to close the story.

Our lives are always going to be pocked with these types of challenges, but we must move on, cherish the memories, remember the lessons, and feel the warmth of the sun on our face, of a new and powerful dawn.

May God Bless all of my family and yours, both those here and those that have passed. Amen