Two years. It’s been two years since I saw his smile, heard his laugh, watched him love on our boys- love on me. It feels like a different lifetime. We are back in Naples for our now second trip without him. We’ve done our usual activities to honor our memories and traditions here, but we’ve created new experiences, too.
My oldest and I were far out on a jet ski yesterday where we slowed down to enjoy the view. To take in Earth’s beauty and reflect on how lucky we were to be sitting out there alone, together, basking in sunshine and gratitude. I told him that I love Naples and the ocean so much because I imagine Daddy resting in the place where the skyline meets the water. The beautiful line of demarcation that connects the horizon and the sunset to the Earth. To me, that line, that space, signifies hope, healing, and eternal love. That’s heaven right there - right where I imagine him to be.
While we’ve had a great vacation, there have been sad moments, too. We went to Naples Pier the other night after dinner. The last time we were there was the last time we had a photo taken together as a family of five – only one week prior to that dreadful day. We visited that pier every year in hopes we would see dolphins, and we often did. It was dreamy – especially to me. So many walks of life on that pier at any given time. Some fishing for fun. Some fishing to make a living or to put dinner on the table. Some were with their families. Some sat alone gazing into the ocean – maybe longing for a loved one or dreaming a new dream. Everyone had a story; one I’d never known.
That evening, we walked up and noticed a gate blocking off the pier about fifty yards in. I thought to myself how odd they would close it down right before sunset – there were people everywhere! As we approached the gate, we noticed it wasn’t just closed for the night – it had been closed since the hurricane that devastated South Florida almost two years ago. I was stopped in my tracks. I held it together until we got back to the car, then cried the whole way back to the hotel. My best girlfriend stayed with the boys so I could take a drive and have a moment to myself, and I just cried. And cried. And cried. I turned up the music so loud, but it didn’t matter, all I could feel was pain and sadness and the reminder of a life that once was.
I didn’t talk about it until the next morning. I needed to honor those feelings and emotions as I haven’t felt a kick to the gut like that in a while now. As I cried to my girlfriend the next morning, she reminded me that that pier, however beautiful and special it was and the memories it held for us, will be rebuilt again in time – Just. Like. Me.
That visual changed my whole perspective because it was true. We’ve been rebuilding our life, our Moxley Pier, for two years. Sometimes a plank or two would fall and we’d take a few steps back, but we always start building again. We have an abundance of love surrounding us - our family, friends, schools, our community, my workplace who continues to help me grow and learn and care for me and my boys like we are their own. We are enormously lucky and equally grateful to have this army of support and unwavering love. We may be different than most, we may have suffered enormous tragedy and loss far too young, but we know one thing for certain, we will never walk this path alone.
I love you, Daddy. You’re forever in our hearts, our memories, and also our prayers. I hope you’re proud of us. I hope you’re proud of me.
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