After my transformative journey in Chacala’s jade waters, I stepped away from open water swimming for an entire year. Yes, you read that right—a full year.
I hesitated to share this chapter of The Mermaid Diaries with you. It’s not a tale of achieving goals or breaking records. Instead, it’s a raw, honest story about those moments when life gently (or sometimes not so gently) pulls us in a different direction. These moments often carry the most profound teachings about leadership, resilience, and what truly matters in our journey.
Returning to Portland meant leaving behind the nurturing coaching and easy access I found in Chacala. Gone were the familiar faces, the structured routines, the safety net that had supported my aquatic adventures. Like many of us who’ve experienced transformation in one setting, I found myself struggling to transplant that magic back home. (It’s a powerful reminder of why systemic change matters—individual determination, however strong, often crumbles against structural barriers—and is limited to individuals.)
Have you ever experienced this? That bittersweet moment when you discover a new part of yourself in a different environment, only to watch it slowly fade like a vivid dream upon returning home?
The pristine pools of Portland felt like a pale reflection of Chacala’s vibrant waters. But more than that, my heart was being called elsewhere—to my mother.
During a monthly visit to Tucson, it became clear that my fierce, determined mom needed more care than her current situation could provide. She needed a different living situation and, as quickly as we could, we found one and scheduled her move. Life has a way of showing us our priorities, and on the morning we planned to move her, my heart stopped when we found her unresponsive—the same incredible woman who had, just days before, beamed with pride watching her last grandchild graduate from college.
Swimming? It wasn’t even a whisper in my thoughts anymore.
Though she rallied initially, giving us precious additional months, we knew we were walking on sacred ground. I celebrated what would be my last birthday with her that July. By August, we began our final journey together. For eight continuous days and nights, our family formed a circle of love around her bed in my sister’s home.
Celebration of my mom’s life announcement
Life’s most profound moments rarely announce themselves beforehand.
The last drops of water on her lips, her final taste of her beloved dark chocolate gelato, and her last words—a simple, soul-touching “thank you” as her eyes met mine—these moments are now treasured memories of ways I got to say my goodbyes to her. On September 3, 2023, in the gentle quiet before dawn, she crossed over peacefully, leaving us with hearts both full and breaking.
Service in Aguada, Puerto Rico, Parent’s ashes reunited, and Family burial plot
We honored her memory twice: first with our community in Tucson, then in Borikén, where we reunited her ashes with my father’s. Standing before our gathered loved ones to deliver her eulogy, I felt the weight and privilege of carrying her story forward.
Cayó Caracoles, Puerto Rico
As the year that had begun with my first open water swim drew to a close, I found myself drawn back to the ocean—this time to the Caribbean waters, to Yemáya, whom my ancestors know as the mother of all living things. There, cradled by her waves, I allowed the grief and gratitude wash over me. Now an orphan, I embraced every lesson about leading, loving, and living that my parents had woven into my being.
Little did I know then how my return to the open waters the following spring would become a precious pathway to healing and rebecoming.
