Like a Hole in my Heart

Somewhere on these waters yesterday afternoon, I lost a close, good, and trusted friend.

Between Saturday night and Sunday morning we had a thunderstorm of the density of an artillery barrage. Some celestial hand dumped a huge bucket of ice-laden water over my roof. As often happens the following day in the wake of a rain, stormy winds on a clear day sweep the clouds from the horizon. 

Yesterday, we had a strong 20 knots gusting to 25 coming off the beach. Challenging conditions. The first start we nailed, but the race was canceled because the weather mark had also been obliterated by the storm.
On the second start, The Good Guys opted for safety and started down the line, behind Dave. At the first mark, in the congestion, we caught him. That is my thinking. But in these marginal conditions in heavy traffic, my focus has to be on the boat's track in the waters ahead and the sails aloft; peripheral vision is available to the crew. So, Dave must have been someplace behind us. At some point someone aboard made a comment about sirens and that maybe we were sailing past the speed limit.

Dave's boat is berthed between ours and the shore. As we were leaving ours, I saw Dave's boat come in and thought, good: I'll have a chance to chat on the way to the club. But he was not on his boat.

It turns out that, during the race, Dave had just made a comment from his helm:

God, what a beautiful day.

That it was, in fact.

Then he turned the wheel over to someone else, saying that he didn't feel so good. Moments later, he collapsed not to be revived.

He was our Fleet Rep, possibly the best ever. A source of social glue: getting people together and holding them there. Building communities, he had told me, was what he was about. So creative. So musical. So loving. So much younger and in better shape than I; so much more creative, more talented, more giving, more loving. 

I asked, Why not, God, take me instead of him? I had counted on Dave being there for my Trophy Wife upon my passing. Who, now,  will say his words or play his music? 

Small consolidation for the rest of us that he was taken on these waters which he loved more than land.