The Man on the Catamaran

February 1, 2020

Norah’s birth month.

The introduction to the chapter where she was alive.

Norah’s first photo
Norah’s last photo

Today we went on a catamaran cruise.

We took pictures with my phone.

Norah’s prayer card, with her photo, is on the back of my phone.

There was a crew member named John.

He noticed Norah’s photo.

He asked me if that was my baby.

(He didn’t know this was a prayer card).

I told him yes.

He told me he has a daughter who is 2.

He asked me how old my baby is.

I told him she would be turning 2 this month.

He looked at me with sincerity.

I told him she died.

His look deepened.

He asked me her name.

He asked me when she died.

He asked me how she died.

He listened.

He spoke few words.

He spoke powerful words.

He made tears.

He walked away.

He stared out to the sea.

He came back.

He sat.

He looked at more photos.

He smiled.

He grabbed my hand.

He told me he wears heavy shoes that will never come off.

He told me that February is his hardest month.

He told me that his birthday is on the 9th.

He told me that one year ago, on the 11th (the eleventh), his brother died.

He told me there was an accident.

He told me his parents cry.

He told me they’ll never be the same.

He walked away.

He gazed at the horizon.

He came back.

He gave me a fist bump.

He sat.

We sat.

He gave his empathy.

He opened his emotion.

He didn’t tell me to be OK.

He didn’t offer platitudes.

He told me this will never go away.

He told me to keep going.

I’m grateful for John – the man on the catamaran.

Thank you, Jamaica.

Thank you, John.

Thank you God and thank you Norah for putting us both where we needed to be on the first day of February.

One love.

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