My Opah is the old man from Up. From the thick rimmed glasses to the big round nose and bushy brows, he is the spitting image of the cantankerous old man I’ve seen on screen so many times before. Like the old man from Up, Carl, my Opah was an adventurer. While Carl longed for the sky, Opah loved the sea. He traveled the world and fished in every pond, lake, and ocean he stumbled upon. I grew up hearing stories of his fishing adventures from the time he and his fisherman buddies got bested by their wives in a deep sea boating competition or the time he bought a live rooster to wake him up for a day on the Sea of Cortez. He loved telling stories almost as much as he loved the adventures themselves.
And for 68 wonderful years, Opah had an adventure partner to share these stories with. My Nana was a painter with a love of learning, sewing, cooking and, of course, deep sea fishing. She was the beautiful, kind Ellie to my Opah’s stubborn, intrepid Carl. When they were two broke college kids (much like myself) my Opah wrote his bride to be—Kitty Cat as he affectionately called her—love letters, detailing the ways he would provide for her and all the adventures they would share.
They built a house together, inspired by the houses they saw in their travels to Mexico, and they lived for many happy years overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Opah became an estate lawyer—not quite as joyful as selling balloons, but a job he loved nonetheless. He started a practice on the water and finally bought the fishing boat he so desperately wanted. He took every opportunity to escape the stuffy office for a quick ride around the jetty, occasionally even bringing his secretary with him to get work done while adrift. Nana followed her passion for painting; the sea was her favorite subject. They had three kids together, two mischievous but lovable sons and one remarkable, intelligent daughter (my mom). They had a beautiful family and lived a beautiful life.
When my Nana was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s fifteen years ago, she started to forget the many adventures they shared. She forgot the Mexican coastline and Opah’s love letters and her paintings of the sea. She forgot the names of her grandkids and eventually her kids too. The one thing she always remembered was my Opah, and my Opah was always by her side. They moved into a memory care facility far away from the water. Opah was given the option to receive separate, better care for himself in a different facility within the senior center. We encouraged him to live just down the hall from his Kitty Cat but Opah refused, saying that he made a vow to be there for his wife until the day she died. COVID kept them apart for two months as my Opah was placed in an acute care facility. He was put on hospice and just as we began to lose hope, he fought his way back to his wife, never again leaving her side. He fulfilled his promise and held her hand as she passed from this world.
Opah’s love for his Kitty Cat never faded but he knew he would see his beautiful wife again. Carl’s love of life after loss came from a “Wilderness Explorer” scout and a talking dog. Opah found joy from his grandkids. We’d commit “jail breaks” as he called it—taking him away from the senior living center every weekend to go to lunch by the water and to take a ride on his old fishing boat. My dad would rev the engine as we left the jetty causing the waves to crash over the front of the boat. Opah would laugh as all his grandkids screamed from the cold. At 90 years old, he still longed for adventure. Even when he could no longer walk and was unable to leave his bed he always greeted us grandkids saying, “we’re going fishing” and “we’re going to Mexico”–back to the Sea of Cortez where he took us fishing as kids. His adventure spirit remained strong until the day he left this world.
Now, he has finally reached his Paradise Falls and is seated beside his Kitty Cat. My grandparents’ adventure book is filled with many wonderful memories. I imagine them up above reviewing the many pages of their life stories and planning their next adventure. This month marked 70 years of marriage and I am very happy to know that my grandparents are together once more. I hope there is water in heaven. A nice lake or river for Opah to fish on and Nana to paint. And a fishing boat for my Opah to continue his adventures until we can join them again.
I learned about my Opah’s passing when I was studying abroad in Dublin this summer. The night he passed I went back to the water. I walked along the Dun Laoghaire seashore and settled on the 40 Foot Cliff where I did something I never imagined I would do before—I jumped. Opah would have laughed at the way I shouted when I hit the water. It was even colder and I screamed even louder than when the water lapped over the side of Opah’s fishing boat. I am sure he was laughing up above and smiling too. I’m sure he was proud of me for going on my own grand adventure to Ireland. My Opah taught me so much in the 20 years we shared together. He taught me how to fish, he taught me about the law, and he taught me what love looks like. But most of all, he taught me that adventure is out there. And I intend to find it.
