In Dutch Harbor
On April 18th
around 10 am
I started to wait for a flight out.
I thought for sure I was going to be stuck there at least 2 days.
I only had to wait there 7 hours
and I was THANKFUL.
Had a 6 hour layover on frightfully comfortable chairs in Anchorage until 5am-ish Saturday morning and finally touched down in Seattle around 9-ish.
Then I stayed 2 nights at home as I waited for Monday to come around so I could fly to SanFrancisco so I could go scatter ashes.
Yes my father,
who I only met once,
had died and so I got to 'escape' my contract (AKA not have to repay my original airfare up) in order to meet the rest of my family; my 2 (half) sisters.
I met one sister face to face for the first time on Monday.
Later, my father's wife, my sisters, and their brood and I went out to eat at an overpriced, very-okay, restaurant that my father used to go to.
We ate, drank, and passed around a glass of scotch (my father's weapon of choice) & each made a toast.
Afterwards we got down to the surf and scattered his ashes.
I spent one night in a room of the hotel that my sister works at (an overpriced hotel that caters to the tech field)
one night at my sister's home.
We ate, played games, and talked.
Familial bonds were formed as well as I know how.
And I returned home.
Four evenings have played out since my return.
My mouth is still heavy with the taste of ashes.
But they have naught to do with my father.
But all to do with a lousy fishing season
and a tumor of uncertainty.
No actual tumor, yet, just uncertainty about work, life, and home.
I'm putting on warm clothes to fight the (terrible) 50 degree damp
and fuck about the yard.