The Last Voyage

 Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

I'd  been off for about 2 1/2 weeks recovering from surgery, which went well.  The only byproduct was a loss of energy which is still taking its toll.  Returning to the ship on a Saturday, I saw in the wardroom a small memorial for one of our long-standing tour guides, a man named Ford,  Apparently he had passed away while I was off, and this sudden breaking news was a shock.  He was a friend, and had been literally since my first day back aboard.  He gave me my first orientation tour that day, setting a very high bar for sharing the ships story.

Over those many months we spent a lot of time talking as old men are wont to do.  He was older by ten or twelve years, and had stories to tell.  We spent a lot of time sharing parts of our lives, along with our shared bemusement of the state of the world.  He was a superb guide and I learned a lot from him about presenting Missouri’s history, and myself, as well as the best ways to deal with our guests.  Ford was a bountiful resource about so many things as well as a trusted confidant.

He had been in declining health for awhile.  He had several falls, and at one point had to be taken off tours altogether.  He took up a static position in the wardroom where he would spend his day regaling everyone who came by with his trove of stories and knowledge.  Despite his condition, he never sought sympathy.  I don’t think any of us were aware of just how bad things had gotten.

A sudden or unexpected death is always a shock.  For reasons unclear, I think we expect life to go on without change, especially in our relationships.  It’s akin to driving down a road at night in a storm, then discovering just a tad too late that the bridge we assumed was there…wasn’t.  Everything drops away and suddenly we’re twisting in the wind.

I miss Ford.  He was a trusted friend, and we never have enough of those.  I know his memory will grace the decks of the Battleship forever.

I’ve reached the point in life when people I’ve known, some throughout my life are disappearing.  The loss of those relationships and friendships always leaves a hole in my life.  Somehow, I assume that they will always be around.  As I sit here today, it’s hard to come to grips with the fact that Ford is gone, irretrievably so, that I won’t ever see, talk to, or here that ever cheerful gravelly voice again.  Life has changed. 

None of us ever want change, yet it is the one consistency in life.  We are mortal, and on some cosmic or divine calendar is a date circled in red, a date that we will never know until it is upon us when we shall sleep for the final time.  Death is the last great unknown, the final frontier, if you will.  The familiar will end, the unknown just ahead.  For most that is scary.

I had once what is called a “near death experience” which is recorded elsewhere in this blog.  Even though that was more than 20 years ago, I’m still processing that experience.  The point being, I’ve been there, so it is no longer that mysterious unknown.  I lost the fear of death then, and it has never returned.  It was a beautiful and profound moment.  Now, I’m in no hurry to go back anytime soon.  I’m still having way too much fun here.  But I am comforted by the certainty that when that day arrives, I will embrace it without fear or regret.  

There’s no more important moment than now.  So I take the time to enjoy the warm sun, the cool breeze, the blue sky.  I listen to the birds and their songs.  I have been blessed by people who love me, and how they have filled my life with joy and meaning.  Each moment is a treasure, never to be repeated.

Yes, I am a lucky man who has lived a long and full life.  I know it will end at some point, but until then, I will live life to the fullest, just as Ford did.

I think about my friend and the hole left in life by his passing.  I wonder where he is, what his thoughts are, and hope that he is at peace.