I hate the wind.

I really, really do.

When I was a kid, it terrified me. My Dad was a fisherman and always out at sea. When it was windy, I'd lie in bed, listening to the accordian-style closet door crinkling from the draft in the crawlspace and I'd worry about him, out there on the water. Wide eyed, blankets pulled up to my mouth, trembling in fear. Praying for his safe return. To this day, the sound of a strong wind howling outside still evokes those same feelings of anxiety within me. (Like tonight.)

I'll never forget that particular night, it was extremely stormy and the wind was whistling through the gaps in the window panes. I guess I'd eventually fallen asleep because the phone woke me up. It was around 3 am and I knew, instantly, that it was bad news. What else would it be at that time of night? I listened as Mom answered and then confirmed my deepest fears with her sobbing. "No, NO!!!". I crept out of bed and into the kitchen to stand by her side and wait for the bomb to go off. To hear that my Dad wasn't coming home. Then I remember her saying "it went down?". The worst feeling you could ever imagine - hearing that a boat carrying your loved one has sunk. It turns out a rogue wave was to blame.

It seemed like forever until I heard Mom utter the words "he made it? Where is he?". It was more of a question but God oh God help us, it had to be true. My Mom was always overly dramatic and could never hide her emotion and that night was no exception. She hung up and we both started to cry.

"It's o.k., your Dad's going to be o.k.".

He was in a hospital with his leg broken in 16 places. But somehow he'd made it.

After she hung up, Mom and I sobbed and hugged each other for a long time.

It turned out that Dad was one of the lucky ones....the boat went down fairly close to shore and he and the others somehow managed to swim to safety in the frigid water. Probably helped to numb the excruciating pain in his crushed leg.

I'm sure that it must've been sheer determination that carried Dad to the beach that night. He's always been such a proud father...I'm certain that the thought of leaving his family on their own, to fend for ourselves, pushed him beyond his limits. He's my hero, through and through.

Everyone made it but Dad's good friend Bob, who'd been standing right beside him when tragedy struck. As the boat began to take on water, the split second decision was made to cut the line and release the net full of fish in order to get rid of the extra weight. When they did, it snapped back with such force that it took them all out, killing Bob instantly.

When I ride, I always end up at the Fisherman's Memorial at Garry Point. I get off my bike and go over to Bob's name...run my fingers over it and say a prayer as I look out over the water to the boats heading out to sea. One is for Bob and the other's in thanks that I still have my Dad.

God it's windy out tonight. I really hate it.