“All water is holy water.” ― Rajiv Joseph
For as far back as I have memory, I have been drawn to the water: lakes, rivers, streams, waterfalls, oceans.
Growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan at the confluence of the Root River (Racine is French for “root”), likely explains the pull water has on me. On my heart. On my soul.
Where there is water, there is peace. Comfort. Rest. Breath.
Water is ever and always a reminder of my baptism and the knowledge that I am a beloved child of God.
I get the love for water honestly, as we say in the South. My mom loves it too.
As mom and I have spent much of the last week together following Jim’s passing, helping with plans for his memorial service and reminiscing with family, water has been a bit of a through line.
We spent part of a day at one of my favorite sacred sites, the Wind Point Lighthouse. Earlier in the month I climbed to the top, something the Village of Wind Point allows on the first Sunday of every month. It’s a 144-step climb to the top of the light where on a clear day you can almost see forever.
On Wednesday, the shadow of the lighthouse was a place of rest. A moment of peace at the beginning of the long and non-linear mourning process.
We listened to the water roll ashore. If you’ve not been to Lake Michigan, its waves roar like the ocean. A cormorant dipped under the water in search of a meal. A mom and dad took pictures of their daughters, precariously perched on the rip-rap barrier between earth and lake. A slight breeze cooled the air.
On Sunday, we drove to Door County, specifically Kangaroo Lake, where mom and Jim spent many weeks a year at his lake house.
In my 53 years I’d never been to Door County, and I know mom and Jim had deep affection for this “Cape Cod of the Midwest.”
Mom plans to spend a week or so there after Jim’s ashes are interred at the Southern Wisconsin Veterans Memorial Cemetery in Union Grove later this month. (Aside: Jim was an avid fisherman. His ashes will be placed in a tackle box before being placed in the wall.) I suggested we make a short trip to Door County because I feared her going alone after all of the funereal activities were over would be overwhelming emotionally.
Fortunately, I know she will be in good hands. In our whirlwind visit I met a handful of her and Jim’s dearest friends: Arps, John and Kathy, and Howard and Patty.
Arps and his wife, Pat, own Kangaroo Lake Resort, just up the road from Jim’s house. Their dog, Toby, is known as the Mayor of Kangaroo Lake.
John and Kathy live across the street from the house with Copper, their Springer Spaniel. They had just been in Knoxville a few weeks ago to take ownership of their new Cirrus jet.
Howard and Patty, who in their late 80s are a substitute teacher/former principal and local journalist/former PR executive, respectively, treated us to an enjoyable dinner and delightful conversation at the Coyote Roadhouse.
Meeting their friends meant retelling the details of Jim’s sudden illness and passing. It was cathartic for mom to bring the people who care so deeply for Jim and for her into her grief. And there was lot of water.
Kangaroo Lake, naturally, where mom took me to see Jim’s spanking new pontoon, which he got to pilot just once. After dinner, mom took me on a tour of Door County’s many towns, where there was plenty of water. Sturgeon Bay, Green Bay, North Bay, Sister Bay, Rowley Bay, etc.
Photos of boats on the various harbors don’t do the places justice.
At the conclusion of our tour, we stood on the public boat launch at Kangaroo Lake, watching the sun nearly finish its descent.
Mom likes to morning on the front porch, looking out at Kangaroo Lake, soaking in the peace. I spied her there this morning and left her to the quiet while I dressed and packed for our return to her new normal.
We had a beautiful time. She was glad I wanted to go. And wouldn’t Jim have loved to have been my tour guide?
Mom’s return in a few weeks will still be emotional, I’m certain. However, I know mom’s heart is in the good hands of wonderful friends.
And there will be water.
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