Sunshine and water. Air and ash.

Father’s Day came and went last month, my first since my father died last fall.

I clocked it, enjoyed the tributes and memories of my friends’ fathers on social media and by text. But on that day, I had nothing to add.

I was, you see, carrying around a Ziplock baggie with his ashes, bringing them to the Mediterranean, where he had requested that we sprinkle them. (I had to ditch the urn upon realizing that I had missed the deadline – by several months – to complete the required steps to give him a more dignified passage.)

And, this being a first for me, I didn’t know how to do it, how to sprinkle ashes. I was kind of squeamish at the thought of touching them. I had been carrying them around with me for a couple weeks, as I travelled towards the Mediterranean – and having them nearby made me unexpectedly emotional.

Once I reached the ocean, there emerged a new logistical problem: how was I supposed to get them into the sea? I don’t have a boat. I didn’t want to dump them off a beach, lest they wash ashore or towards other swimmers (eewwww, right?). The docks and marina seemed oily and barnacled and generally uninviting.

On my last day of the trip, flight scheduled for the next day, my anxiety about properly spreading these ashes was growing. I was running out of time.

But my father was an optimist and a manifester. He always made things happen. And somehow, apparently not without some power even beyond this Earth, this too, he made happen.

On the night before, some family friends were visiting. One of them is a boat guy, who, knowing nothing of my mission, talked about renting a boat for an excursion. I got hopeful about this prospect, but then, jet lag prevailed, and he slept until noon. My hope evaporated as the possibility seemed to fade.

But (thanks, Dad!), before finishing his coffee and croissant, our boat-guy guest was working his phone. He found a boat and generously offered to rent it for the afternoon.

We motored towards a sweet swimming spot in the channel between some islands, which gave me some relief. Here in this water, I could do this. But the boat didn’t steer towards the islands, instead picking up speed. Apparently, our guests had had a different idea and told the captain of the boat to head us there – to a beach restaurant they had heard was fun.

The restaurant was one of, if not my father’s most favorite place.

Now, my father could be difficult. He really liked getting his way – even if that meant being unreasonably argumentative or even mean.

But as far as he could over-calibrate towards impatient and irritable, so could he be a powerful seeker of fun. He was a man who could truly push the limits on what constituted a good day. He was a guy who didn’t mire in what he couldn’t do; his eyes always lit upon what he could. He loved water, sunshine, azure water and good food. He loved a good vibe. He loved being the organizer of the party.

And he loved a late-afternoon lunch at this exact restaurant.

So, when that boat started speeding towards a late lunch, it was like he was on board in a bigger way than that little Ziplock full of ash.

I couldn’t stop smiling at the perfection. At the way it all came together. At how powerful my father was in many ways.

We drank French rose on a hot day – and toasted my father, who sure did like rose on a hot day. We smiled along with him at the feel of the wind generated by the boat. We listened to loud music (which, if I’m being honest, would probably have annoyed him, and he probably would have barked at us to turn it down … but we were willing to take that risk).

We admired the unreal blue of the water, which he would have for sure commented on – because he noticed and appreciated water like that every time he saw it.

I felt lit up by a day that took multiple unexpected turns, all towards fun and joy and adventure. It was truly a day my father would have loved.

And so, with a paradoxical smile coexisting with my tears, I thanked my father for teaching us how to have fun. I felt grateful for everyone on the boat.

And with nothing but a feeling of peace, I took that baggie of ashes and dumped it upside down into the blue-green sea.