For my Father

A lot of dads surf. Mine doesn’t. But, the lack of having him in the water with me makes thoughts of him ever more present. I think of it when, after a session I see some kid peeling off his wetsuit with his dad there helping the cumbersome process. In the water the father-son bond is even more prevalent. Hooting your progeny through a floater, or even sharing a wave with a parent, evokes feelings that I haven’t been able to feel. The bond between son and father is multiplied when the medium through which they are connected is something as spiritual as the ocean.
You could say i'm jealous, maybe even a little cynical towards the family surf session. But more than resentment i've learned to show my father what surfing means to me. He may not be in the water, but he is still there in spirit. Ill tell him about the waves I caught, the dolphins I saw, or the new friends I made. I explain swell, wind and tide to try to paint a better picture for him. And slowly, my dad starts to be there with me. The post-surf briefing no longer starts with a comment from me. He engages and asks about the conditions, how I did and what I saw.
He may never get to experience what it feels like to get tubed or the first breath of air after getting held under, but he can live those things through me. No longer do we search for that common ground for conversation. We have made our own ground, and found it with the sea. I am a surfer, and my dad is not. And, we can still be stoked together.

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