Written by the TreasureGuide for the exclusive use of the Treasure Beaches Report.
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| Tuttle Trail Secon Flag Pole Photo by Al C. |
This photo was taken at the same place as yesterday's. You might want to compare them.
As Al pointed out, this spot is filling in again.
Notice the seaweed, which is often one of the first indicators that sand is accumulating.
So what happened. If you check, you'll see that th wind is now more east than it was. One day it was a north wind, now it is more east, while the surf is east/northeast.
The surf is was also a touch smaller today. The tomorrow, however, are big.
Thanks once again to Al.
I saw on the TV weather a nice cut at Fort Pierce South Jetty.
I haven't been out for a few days. I'll explain why below.
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Besides continuing work on the Atocha and Margarita, the Mel Fisher organization has a third project, which they say "could rewrite the history for the search and recovery of Spanish treasure galleons." The third ship sank in the same hurricane as the Atocha and Margarita.
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I found the above online a week or more ago and daily intended to post it but keep forgetting to do it. I kept thinking I'll do it tomorrow. But today is the time I was waiting for even though I didn't know it.
Last night my 97-year-old mother passed away at home as I tried to make her more comfortable. It was the culmination of a process of several years. I could see it coming though I didn't want to see it clearly. There was always a vague hope that made the inevitable end more bearable at the moment.
There were many lows along the way, but she usually recovered. She was tough. She lasted a long time but now was exhausted.
She needed a lot of assistance, but she was able to die at home rather than going to a facility. She wanted that, and we did what we could to make it happen. It was a long and difficult process. I wouldn't have done it for a million dollars. But I wouldn't have not done it for a million dollars.
She was from another time. One that we don't know today. She grew up in a rural area during the Great Depression. When her and my dad got married in the house of the local pastor, dad had less than an hour to get to the next city to catch the train back to the navy base.
She went to college when it wasn't popular for housewives, particularly those from the back woods, to go back to school, and she took some flak from the neighborhood ladies for attempting such a thing.
My parents wanted to make sure they could send me to college, so the idea was for her to be able to get a job so they could do that. They hadn't done it. For them it was a big dream. She graduated from college the same year I graduated from high school.
She told me many stories of the old days and kept a lot of the photos and papers going back generations. I'm glad about that. As I often complain about metal detector finds, they didn't label enough of the photos, and they are now scattered in different boxes all over the house with other papers and things. Too often I wish I knew who those people are.
She had a long and full life. I was glad she got to die at home. She wanted that.
It was one of the most difficult things I ever did - watching her deteriorate and struggle eventually becoming unable to care for herself in the most basic ways. It was a developing child in reverse. She required more and more assistance, finally not being able to, or perhaps not wanting to fight to breathe anymore.
I didn't want to see her in the hospital after passing, but I was convinced by the nurse. I was glad I did. The body had nothing to do with her anymore. Something had clearly changed. The lifeless body had no more to do with Betty than the chair in the room. She was not there. She was free. And I felt relief knowing she was free.
Me - I was missing her. As I left the hospital room, I waved goodbye towards the ceiling. We parted, and I left a big part of myself.
So today, I have a big hole in my life. I have time I have not had in years. Duties that occupied so much of my recent years are gone, though I habitually think it is time to do them. It is time for pills, or time to tell her that her favorite TV show is on.
With those familiar duties gone, there is a new empty spot in my life. Tears too. I miss doing those things I wished I didn't have to do. I miss the only remaining person who knew and shared my entire life. I miss my mom.
In my loss and sadness, I'm more grateful and appreciative today than I ever was. The memory of my mom is my new treasure.
Thanks mom!
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Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.