on eagle's wings

I just got home from possibly the greatest day yet of my trip, and wanted to share it with you all right away, but when I opened my email to send in a post, I received some sad news from home that is more important.  While I was shark diving off the coast of South Africa this morning, my paternal grandfather, George Halaska, passed away in Milwaukee.  I will eventually tell you all about my shark diving adventure, but for today I'd like to say a little bit about my grandpa.

He had been fighting tongue cancer the last couple years and when I left in August he was gearing up for his last bit of radiation.   Several weeks ago he entered the hospital for some treatment, but never got better.

My grandpa was one of my biggest supporters of my trip and his great joy and encouragement for my trip is the only reason that I am not on an airplane back to the States instead of writing this.  He would think me an absolute fool if I did. The last email I got from him, in August, said that he had been bragging to everyone who would listen about my trip and that he would miss me, but he couldn't wait until I got home to tell him all about it.

Not even 3 days after I was hired back in March, my grandpa had visited the Semester at Sea website and printed out the itinerary of my voyage.  He posted the itinerary on the family bulletin board right away.  I was, and am, so happy that I did something to make him so proud of me.

My dad printed out some of my early blog entries and brought them to my grandpa so that he could read them.  Apparently, he most enjoyed the ridiculous questions asked by students on the voyage, as well as my Moroccan Estimated Value of 50,000 camels.  I wish he would’ve been here to celebrate Neptune Day – the man has had a buzz cut for as long as I have known him. Ever since I had hair (which was… unfortunately… not until I was 3) he’s been offering to give me a hair cut just like his.  I’m sorry I didn’t honor him by doing it on Neptune Day.

I’ve been having a weird montage of memories of my grandpa throughout the past week – they keep popping in and out of my head.   I SHOULD be at home sharing them with my family and laughing and crying together, but I’m not.  I'm here on a ship.

I remember him telling me 2 years ago not to do any man’s laundry unless I had a ring on my finger; I remember the very, very strong pineapple martinis he made one year at Christmas; I remember the ridiculous 4th of July hat he’s been wearing to our family celebration for as long as I can remember; I remember seeing him cry at my aunt Michelle’s wedding; I remember being at church as a kid and knowing he was at the same mass because I could hear him singing so loudly and deeply from the very last row; I remember his somewhat bizarre dedication to American Idol and his strong opinions on each contestant; I remember the slow and deliberate way he opened every Christmas and birthday gift he received; I remember him trying to teach me French phrases in the weeks before he took the whole family to Montreal when I was 13; I remember his affection for Barbiere’s pizza; I remember how satisfying it felt whenever I made him laugh.

Overall, I’ll remember how much love he had for his family, and I’m content that he’s at peace.  In an email he sent out earlier this year (in which he detailed his health update) he said he was taking great comfort in a prayer called “Come to Me.”  I hadn't heard of it, so I looked it up.  There were a lot of results, and a lot of different prayers.  Whether or not this was the one in which he found serenity, I don’t know because I never asked, but it truly applies and I feel it should be shared if it brought him peace.

God saw you getting tired
and a cure was not to be
so he put his arms around you
and whispered,
Come to Me.

With tearful eyes we watch you
and saw you pass away
and although we loved you dearly
we could not make you stay.

A Golden heart stopped beating
hard working hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove us
he only takes the best


Love you Grandpa, and lots of love to my family.  I wish I was going to be with you all on Saturday.