Facing Fear on Kitty's Angel-versary - With the Hope of Moving Forward

I am about to embark on a journey and haven't yet decided whether I'm brave, crazy, adventurous, accommodating or just plain stupid.  Most likely it's a combination of all the aforementioned.  I am going on a cruise ... on the fourth anniversary week of Kitty's drowning.

Needless to say, this vacation was not my idea.  My fear of water goes back to childhood, when my dad would drive on Shepard/Warner Road, a street that runs adjacent to the Mississippi River in St. Paul.  And when I use the word 'adjacent', I mean 'immediately alongside' the river.  Out of the car window, I could look down into the dark water.  Dad would swerve the car, pretending we were going to veer off the road and into the mighty Mississippi.  I was terrified.  He thought it was funny.

It was not at all amusing to me then and since Kitty's death, my fear is more intensified... not to mention that I have seen the movie "Titanic".  I like to think I'm being strong and courageous by accepting the invitation to accompany Mandy and her family on this vacation.  And I am aware that there are no icebergs in the Caribbean.  Nonetheless, the next couple of weeks are going to be a true test of facing my aquaphobia while reflecting on the loss of my granddaughter.  What a brutal combination.

What puzzles me the most - and yet somehow, kind-of convinces me that this trip is going to be a step forward on my grief journey - is that son-in-law, the person responsible for Kitty's death, is the planner of our adventure to the Atlantic.  He is the one who chose to use Kitty's fourth angel-versay to take a cruise.  During the past several months of planning, I found this this horribly disturbing and confusing.  But, as I write this, I wonder ... is he also facing a fear?  Maybe I am self-centered in thinking this vacation is a challenge for me alone.

Over the past three years, Mandy has taken the week of Kitty's death to mourn.  She takes time away from her job.  It's a difficult period for all of us, but especially for her.  One day does not this anniversary make.  It involves an entire week, starting with the day of the accident, continuing with the 3-day hospital vigil, the day Kitty died, the visitation and finally the funeral ... an exactly seven-day anniversary ... a week of remembering every detail.

My daughter has not said much about her comfort level of being on a ship, in the middle of the ocean, four years after her baby's drowning.  I imagine I will see tears in her eyes during quieter moments.  I am prepared for it.  

I am also ready to help myself.  No longer am I a child riding in the back seat of my dad's Ford Fairlane.  This cruise is an opportunity for me to help myself overcome my fear, to take time away from everyday distractions and give myself time to myself for healing and - most importantly - to spend a very important week with Mandy, son-in-law, Belle, the Dasher and the Basher.  I've been invited into their private circle of mourning.  I am honored.