The Return to Stellwagen

We Will Meet Again

Monday, October 24th I will be going out to Stellwagen Bank to visit our friend. Although I will be floating on the surface looking into 600+ feet of water I am sure I will feel extra close to Kim even though I know he is around me all of the time.

The boating season is fastly coming to an end. I have been trying to get Marina out to see Kim since the day we placed his body there on May 26th. It may seem an easy task from the shore, but it is a three hour boat ride directly out to sea. There are no islands along the way or places to stop for refueling. The boat needs to be open ocean worthy and have a fuel capacity adequate for such travels.

I reached out to Captain Fran. He had taken Kim and I out many times to scallop and lobster hunt. When I told him of the situation, he was touched and agreed to make the journey for us. We just needed to wait for the right weather pattern and tie it into the front end or back end of one of his charters.

Well, the time is here. The marine weather looks to be the right conditions for our venture. It's funny. I actually feel nervous to go out there. Since Kim has passed I have taken care of others and it has afforded me the escape of dealing with my own loss. I keep telling myself that I am ok with it and that it is inevitable of all of us. I still don't agree with the timing. This trip will be an incredible healing experience for me. I am looking forward to it with all of my heart.

The home page has a picture of Kim holding a scallop. That picture was taken from my cell phone while out on my boat. My brother Sean, Kim & I took the day off of work to celebrate my birthday and go get ourselves some fresh sea scallops. We caught three bushels of scallops between two divers. All day Sean shucked the scallops as Kim & I ventured back down to the bottom of the ocean at a depth of 100+ feet in zero visibility, frigid waters as soon as we could shake off the cold. We were bumping into each other, boulders and anything that happened to be in front of us as we were swirled around like a plastic bag in a wind storm. We never gave up or considered calling the dive. It wasn't the way we approached diving or life. With the massive bounty we split it up equally between the three of us resulting with a jam packed one gallon freezer bag each of fresh scallop meat. We must have eaten a dozen right from the shells that day. As Sean was shucking we noticed how clean and beautiful the shells were on the outside and inside. We decided to keep fifty of them and to serve the scallops on them as appetizer plates at Mariposa's Lobster Party for the following year.

As you all know, Kim was not in attendance the following year, not physically anyway. I still have the shells in my garage. It dawned on me last night that I am going to write messages on each one and drop them overboard one by one as we are circling around Kim's final resting spot. The shells will decay over time and become part of Kim's Reef. I wish I could reach the bottom diving to see what a beautiful reef he is making. It is just too deep for diving.

It's funny how I selected that photo as the home page of this website. Little did I know we would be burying him in the same waters two years later.

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Monday, October 24th 3:30am the alarm starts singing and it's time to get up. It felt like any other dive day. The bird's were still sleeping, the dog's weren't even budging. I was alone with my thoughts and soon to be coffee in hand. Every dive morning was the same old routine. Call Kim and wake his sleeping butt up. He would lie to me the first two calls, then on the third one I believe he would actually have his feet on the floor. This time, of course was different. There was no phone calls to make. Just silence. Reflection began quite early today. I still needed to pack myself as if I was diving late October, minus the gear. In went the hat, gloves, thermal underwear, jacket and snacks. As I packed I couldn't help but think of Kim. He was all around me and deep in my thoughts. Chrissy came downstairs and made me one of her famous peanut butter, banana and honey sandwiches. She would wake every dive morning and hand Mark, Kim and I a batch of breakfast sandwiches and lunch sandwiches along with a fresh pot of coffee for the road. Today, the only difference was that the food and coffee were for one person with another in spirit.

4:30 comes and its time to get on the road. It was pitch black outside. The traffic was non-existent until I got towards Boston. Driving past the Storrow Drive exit was tough, because I would have normally been getting off there to pick him up or as of recently visiting the girls. Neither were true today. It was a solo visit with just me and my thougths. No radio, no cell phone. Just pavement and memories.

I pulled into Gloucester Harbor and Captain Fran was just pulling in himself. He saw me and had a large smile on his face extending his hand with a firm shake. We said hello as he looked over my shoulder for Marina. I informed him she was unable to make it today and that she was sorry. He asked it I wanted to cancel and just head home. I shook my head no and said absolutely not. I needed to go out before the season ended and I had to deliver a few messages and listen for feedback and see what Mother Ocean would have on display for me today.

As we were unloading the trucks and were packing the boat Captain Fran offered his condolences and asked how it went down. This is where the shakey voice, shivering body and steady stream of tears began. He informed me that he had set up for us to be inside protected from the weather. Since it was just him and I, he offered for me to sit upstairs with him at the wheel. He fired up the diesel engines and that old familiar smell crept into my nose mixed with the salty air. Right about now Kim would have been smiling, rubbing his hands together thinking of the loot the ocean was about to grant us.

As we got underway, we chatted about diving, the ocean and life in general. He shared how his friend's son had also lost his battle with lymphoma. There were brief moments where I just had to sit in silence. I didn't want the conversation to keep going back to memories of Kim, but I couldn't help it. It was similar to when there is a breakup in a relationship and the person hurting always relates something abstract back to the lost love. I am not ashamed to say that was exactly how I was feeling.
We left the harbor heading north up the river. It was a familiar path Kim & I used to take whether on a charter with Fran or on my boat. We passed Wingersheak Beach where Misha and I had many long walks and talks over the summer out on the massive sand bars.

As if I needed another reason for tears to fill my eyes. That little girl has such a way of dealing with pain it is amazing. Thinking back, so didn't her dad.

As we left the river for the open ocean, I was praying that Mother Ocean would offer me signs. Signs of peace, tranquility and assurance that everything was going to be ALLright. Just outside the river we saw seals playing in the water. We weren't a mile from shore before the first pod of dolphins were cresting above the waves. There were three or maybe four that I could count. Those tears from the beach were drying and the smile was already starting to shine through. I knew we were on the same page today and it was the right time for a visit.

Captain Fran drove out at a comfortable speed of 11 knots. The journey took just under three hours to get to our site.

As we arove at the site, Captain Fran told me the next part is all up to you. He said he would circle the site as long as needed and to take my time. The tears began to roll before I even started to climb down the ladder in anticipation. I had brought eight scallops shells with me and had specific messages for that number.

I brought my ipad, laptop and iphone for the trip. The ipad played the Sea Ceremony music while I sat and shared a Sam Light with what appeared to be an empty chair, but I know who was sitting next to me. Although his beer did not flow down his throat I served it overboard to him to savor throughout the day. I finished mine, then opened one for you all to share together with Kim. Again, it was poured overboard to disperse amongst the water and reach you somewhere somehow.

As I walked to the stern (rear) of the boat to read aloud the message written in each shell, I was taken aback by a tail sticking out of the water. It looked like a sting ray, but they are not going to be in 600+ feet of water and certainly not at the surface. I yelled up to Captain Fran who was showing the utmost of respect for privacy and allowing me to have my moment. He came rushing down the ladder and was shouting for me to grab it. I admit I have done some things that would be considered unorthodox in people's eyes, but I was not about to grab a sea creatures tail while over 28 miles out to sea. We grabbed the grapple pole and brought the dark brown tail next to the boat and then up onboard.

It was a small cluster of muscles attached to a piece of seaweed. So much for the sea creature, but it served as much more. Seaweed grows only on the ocean floor or to any structure attached to the ocean floor. This piece of sea life was directly above Kim's longitude and latitude numbers. Not around there, not in the harbor, but floating directly above. I asked the entire ride out for a sign. Let it be simple. I refuse to believe this was not attached to Kim's Reef and that he set it free for me to see. He was showing us that there is life and it takes many shapes and forms, but it definitely goes on. We did not take it back to shore with us, because it would not live. That would have destroyed the very reason it was sent to the surface for us.
Sitting back, I know realize that there was one more symbol with the floating muscle. Muscles are a sign of strength. Maybe he knew I needed a little extra and wanted to offer me some support?

As I tossed the scallop shells over the reef a sole seagull came over and circled above the back of the boat. I had goose-pimples then and I have them now writing this message. The seagull continually turned it's head and looked me right in the eyes. I did not have my phone at the stern in fear of losing it overboard, but I will never forget that seagull. I wonder it if was the same one from the day of the Sea Burial? 

The seagull listened as I read each message. I swear he would have said, "Brotherman, brotherman, brotherman!" if he could have done so. He would follow us on the route back for miles.

When the last scallop had drifted out of sight and down to it's destination on Kim's Reef, I opened the laptop and watched the Sea Burial video that was shown at Kim's Memorial. Kim and I sat together on the back deck and watched the video, cried and took in not only that day, but this very moment we were sharing now. My seagull friend had not left my side.

Captain Fran came down to check on me as I had fallen silent again. He asked if I was alright. When I answer yes, he asked if I wanted to go back. The real answer was never, but I knew it was time. As he went back up the ladder, I looked off the rear of the boat and saw the largest whale tail I had ever seen. I saw it's back curl and assumed it was a large wave in the distance until I saw the small fin and then the tail came straight out of the water as as plain as day as the whale prepared to dive to the depths. It was almost as if it was a hand waving hello. I refuse to believe it was saying goodbye. The tail was all black with not a single spot of white on it. When I was 16 years old, my mother adopted a Humpback Whale named Onyx for me. Onyx was named after her all black tail. Each whale's tail is unique and is used to identify them by the scientists at the Oceanographic Institute at Wood's Hole in Falmouth, MA. I am not saying that Kim has turned into a whale or somehow him and Onyx are now friends, I'm just saying...

As we motored off, my seagull friend had gone from my sight as I was distracted by the whale. In my head I started to say goodbye and began to get upset. Before a single tear could roll down my face he appeared in the distance behind the boat. He was flapping his wings like a mad man trying to catch up. The tears were now a steady stream as I was rooting him on and telling him he could make it. I kept saying, "Come on, you can do it. I know you can do this. I know you can do this. Just try harder!" It was the same message I used to say to Kim back at Mass General Hospital when we were preparing him for physical therapy to enter the Stem Cell Transplant program. I wanted that seagull to land on that boat so bad that I would have done anything for it to happen and if it did, then he was coming home with me. He tried and tried and tried, but then he began to stare at me and I noticed he did not intend on landing on the boat. He had another path that he needed to take for now. He just wanted to make sure that I was ALLright and that I knew to keep my course. We made promises and I never intend on breaking those to him. He flew parallel to me staring directly into my tear filled eyes. At first I didn't even attempt to smile, but he just kept staring and I could feel my heart filling up and I couldn't help but smile. He always knew how to make me smile. I knew. I knew the answer would come to me. We just have to be open to recieve the message. Sometimes its not what we want. Sometimes it cannot be avoided.
It was quite some time before I could go back up top with Captain Fran, but I knew that was the last part of my journey.

So up I went. He welcomed me with a smile and again asked if I was ALLright. A simple nod and smile was all I could muster. I was taking in all of the events of the day and each day of the last two years. What an incredible friendship we shared and I am so thankfully we became brothers.

I hope this page helps you understand. He is not gone. We are not capable of leaving. We just change our appearance and pass through another time.