Retirement - Two Months In
Porpoises splashing at the paddle out.
Friday, June 28, 2024 was his planned last day of work. He had worked a ridiculous schedule for years; four days on, two off, so his days off always rotated. He had that Tuesday and Wednesday off, then they called him off on Thursday and Friday. The brewery was shut down, no work available…and just like that, it was done. Totally anti climatic, no hoopla or long goodbyes, it was just done. People would ask him, “Well, how does it feel?” He was in such shock, he had no answer, as if he didn’t really understand what just happened.
On his first official day that otherwise would have been a work day, it was nice to see him decompress a little. He was casually making dinner that night, talking about his realization of how much he had pushed down over the years, since he was a kid; things he wanted to do, things that were important to him, that represented his true self, in order to fulfill his obligation to work and responsibility. He teared up, he was taken aback by this statement and the emotion that came with it. He said it easily enough but it ripped a bandaid off somewhere inside him. This is what it will take for him to enjoy this time in retirement, to lean into and excavate all of that. I am so grateful to be able to watch the transition in real time.
His retirement had always been a part of our long term planning - our two year, five year, ten year plan, still he couldn’t really take it in and believe that his time had come. Who am I kidding, even months later he still can’t believe we haven’t starved to death and says he could go back if he had to. He even made sure to update his yearly medical card so he can maintain his CDL, just in case.
It did take him the first month to catch up on sleep and feel like a normal human being again. He had been dealing with a knee injury that had been aggravated the previous year by a fall and was now moving with a full limp. He kept thinking it would work itself out. Years of hard work, skiing and surfing injuries had taken their toll; add to that a fall on the ice and there would be no “working itself out.”
His first reaction to the idea of surgery is always “Hell no”. He would rather have a permanent limp than consider surgical options that might provide healing for him. Knee surgery specifically held a lot of negative connotation for him. His best friend, Pablo, lost his mom due to complications after a fairly simple knee surgery. The idea of getting to retirement, only to be undone by a knee surgery was hard for him to get past.
There were other things gnawing at him. At 66 he was not ready to say he was done surfing. He learned to surf back in college and it changed his whole world. It’s what brought him to California from Texas, where we met almost 40 years ago. His family regularly told him he needed to give it up and get serious about his life. They insisted he would get over it one day. In reality, it was the only thing that held meaning to him, outside of me and our kids. It was his church. Surfing made him a better man.
Granted, by July it had been four years since he’d been in the water. The pain from his knee had severely limited his physical opportunities over the past year. He was at a crossroad; if he ever hoped to surf again it was time to make a choice.
Two weeks after retiring he went into surgery to clean up all the tears that were dangling and causing him excruciating pain. His pain was immediately better. He naturally overdid things right out of surgery, no surprise there…this is his way. Pain was gone, but tightness remained. This would take some work, but he survived.
By August he was healed up enough to make a trip to California to meet up with friends to go bird hunting and see if the improved knee had any interest in surfing. I made the first part of the trip with him, driving to California to hang out in Carlsbad for a week. He borrowed a board, squeezed himself into his spring suit and marched out into the line up at the harbor in Oceanside like he owned it, like he’d never left. I sat quietly on the beach watching and praying.
Back in 2013 he had cared for Pablo through the final months of his life while he battled cancer. Once he passed, a paddle out was held in his honor and as they all gathered in the ocean to toss rose petals in his honor, porpoises playfully surrounded and danced all around them. It was one of those magical moments in life.
Now here as I sat praying for him to be okay, to not get hurt, to not get his ass kicked by locals, I asked for God and Pablo to watch over him. I prayed out to his parents. They never understood the importance of surfing to him when they were here but I hoped that they could lend a hand in this moment.
“C’mon Pablo, help him out there” and just as I said that, just as Bob was getting into position, porpoises appeared, just like they did at Pablo’s paddle out. Thank you God, thank you Pablo. I was freaking out on the beach by myself, near tears, I couldn’t wait to share this with Bob when he got back in. First thing he said was, “Did you see the porpoises? That was Pablo”.
I love that I have taught him to find some magic in the world, as he does not come by this skill naturally. And I was so pleased Pablo was with him. Did he help him to stand up? Well, sort of, let’s just say there is room for improvement. But I know he was with him in the water as he battled his fears that day.
His experience in the water that week, humbling as it was, also inspired him to Google surfboards for old, out of shape guys. This search brought him to Solana Beach and the shop of Joe Blair, maker of big guy surfboards. He goes into the shop, finds a guy is his mid 70’s in a recliner, in board shorts, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. Joe sizes him up and says, “You’re here for a big guy board”. They end up talking for hours and at 66, Bob orders a new surfboard.
For all Bob’s concern and worry about being able to retire, I can see that two months in, hopefulness still lives within him. It’s what we need to make this time the best yet.