From Longing to Loving

On the morning of my mom’s birthday, as I was about to open the engraved cedar box containing her remains, I saw an image of my dad in my mind and heard him say, “Take us to Galley West.”

From Longing to Loving

By

Michelle Rossi Eddins

On the morning of Mom’s birthday, as I was about to open the engraved cedar box containing her remains, I saw an image of my dad in my mind and heard him say, “Take us to the Galley West.” I remember my parents discussing a restaurant called Galley West, where my dad was a bartender.

During one of my mom’s last visits with me, we went to lunch at Nelson’s, a restaurant at the Terranea Resort in Palos Verdes. “This view looks exactly like the Galley West,” she said. “I think it’s the same location.”

“No, this is the former Marineland property,” I said.  She was never good with directions, and to be honest, I thought she was showing signs of dementia.

This unexpected, but welcome request from my dad on the other side threw me off my plan. When I woke up this morning, I felt a strong urge to scatter a small amount of her ashes at the Redondo Beach Pier, just as I had done for him on his birthday four years earlier. I was already a year late. When she passed away, I was still recovering from a double mastectomy to treat breast cancer. So, I waited to do this on her birthday, following the same tradition I did for my dad. However, the world shut down due to COVID-19 a month before her birthday, and the pier was closed.

My parents lived in Redondo Beach, California, when they married in 1967 and stayed there until nine months after I was born in 1971. More than once, they mentioned that at the end of their lives, they wanted to return to where their marriage had begun. The pier held special meaning for them; we visited it several times during my childhood, and when I moved back to the area as an adult, my children and I went there with them when they came to town.

Now it seemed my dad wanted to call an audible and change the plan. He was always a football fanatic. How would I take them to Galley West if it didn’t exist anymore? How was I supposed to find out where it was located? At this moment, my mom’s friend Lynn came to mind. Maybe she would know, but I didn’t want to bother her. I didn’t even know if I had her number. Her daughter, Paige, and I have been friends our entire lives–the kind where you can go a couple of years without talking, and it feels like yesterday. If I couldn’t find the answer, I would contact her.

I decided to Google, “Where was the Galley West restaurant located in Palos Verdes?” I found a newspaper article from The Rolling Hills Herald on February 4, 1965, titled “Marineland Restaurant Undergoes Face Lifting, Named ‘Galley West.’” After the renovation, it had a separate entrance and was completed before my parents moved to Redondo Beach from Buffalo. Damn. Mom was right; the northwest side of Terranea Resort was the former location of Galley West!

I continued my task at hand with the cedar box. Scattering of ashes seems simple, but if you only take a little at a time, separating the ashes can be pretty messy. I divided a small amount into two bags, one for the pier and one for the Galley West. I secured the box again and began washing my hands when I heard my mom’s voice. “You are literally washing your hands of me!” she said, followed by her deep, infectious laughter. She thought this was so funny and loved that I could hear her.

When I told my son about it later, he said, “Of all the days, I hope you sang Happy Birthday while washing your hands.” My mom always told us to sing Happy Birthday twice when washing our hands to make sure all the germs were gone. One of her good friends even shared that as a favorite memory of my mom at her funeral.

Researching the location for Galley West delayed me. I arrived at the pier around midday, later than expected, but since it was midweek, I hoped it wouldn’t be crowded. I parked on the north side and started walking along the newer concrete part of the pier toward my chosen spot on the older wooden plank section to the south – 131 Fisherman’s Wharf. I had scattered some of my dad’s ashes four years earlier. I didn’t know exactly where he wanted to be until I heard, “Stop, here,” and I looked up to see 131 on the side of the pier. My birthday is January 31, so I knew it was his sign that I had the correct location.

Now, I wanted to return to the same spot for my mom. As I walked along the pier's newer section, I suddenly heard my mom say, “Stop here.” The view out to the Pacific was stunning and seemed endless.  Sailboats were rounding the jetty, and I had a clear view of where my son learned to sail, but it wasn’t where I planned to release her ashes. It had to be where I put my dad’s four years earlier, so I continued walking. Once I reached the desired location, I understood why my mom had tried to change my mind. At 131 Fisherman’s Wharf, there were no fewer than eight active fishermen and two or three elderly couples sitting on benches, people-watching. There was no way for me to complete my covert mission. I begrudgingly walked back to the newer section of the pier where I had heard Mom tell me to stop, and now there wasn’t another person in sight.

Throughout my stroll along the pier, I listened to a variety of Mom’s favorite songs, such as Proud Mary, Can’t Help Falling in Love, and Unchained Melody. Then I sat on a bench looking at the ocean and listened to P!nk’s Beam Me Up. Before the song ended, I carefully bent down and opened my red silk pouch to release her ashes into the sea.  As I watched the tide flow, I noticed it was going right by another favorite hangout of my parents from their good ole days, Top of Tony’s. This turned out to be another perfect spot.

After leaving the pier, I tried to make a reservation at Nelson’s restaurant later that evening but found out it was closed on Wednesdays. I was disappointed I couldn’t fulfill Dad’s request for Mom’s birthday. Then, another thought crossed my mind; I selfishly liked this idea even more. I felt a little nervous about my six-month oncologist follow-up scheduled for the next day near the resort. I knew my parents were always with me in spirit during my appointments, and this time, I could bring them there physically. Afterward, I would take them to lunch at Nelson’s, toast to their love and lives, and to me being cancer-free. It would be an inexpensive lunch for the three of us; they wouldn’t partake in any food or spirits – because they were spirits!

I now felt joy on a day that could have brought me grief. I listened to the messages and shifted my attitude from longing to loving. I was emotionally ready to make a social media post for Mom’s birthday. I chose a gorgeous photo of her as a first-year flight attendant with American Airlines in 1964 and wrote, “My mind still talks to you. My heart still loves you. My soul still feels you.”

Within minutes of making the post, I received a message from my friend, Paige, who was missing my mom, sending me love, and letting me know that her mom would be texting me shortly. It didn’t seem like a coincidence that I had thought of both Paige and her mom, Lynn, earlier in the day.

Lynn sent a message saying she was thinking of both me and my mom, as she did often, and remembered vividly how beautiful she looked in her class picture from American Airlines (they were at the flight attendant academy together and were later roommates).  I then explained how I had heard my dad say, “Take us to the Galley West” earlier in the day, and it made me think of her. I explained it was now the Terranea Resort, and I planned to have lunch there the next day, make a toast to my parents, and spread a small amount of their ashes off the cliff.

I could see the three dots in the text box for quite a while, indicating she was thinking. She then finally said she felt a big chill and had goosebumps. She and her husband, Graeme, had their wedding reception at Galley West, and my mom was one of her bridesmaids. Paige had just given her an old Galley West postcard from 1967 for Christmas. She asked me to please toast Graeme tomorrow as well.  He held a special place in my heart; of course, I would.

The next day, I was running late for my oncologist appointment, which isn’t unusual for me. I remembered at the last minute that I only had Mom! I ran upstairs, grabbed the box with Dad’s remains, and went to the kitchen to take a small amount. I’m usually a very calculated and organized person, but that day, without thinking, I opened the bag I had containing Mom’s remains, started scooping some of Dad’s ashes from the box and poured them into that bag.

I immediately heard my dad say, “No! No! Mich! What happened to Until Death Do Us Part? Now we are together for all eternity!” His booming laughter echoed. I was so shocked I burst out laughing. I was preoccupied with being late and knew I couldn’t think of that on my own. This had to be my dad talking. He always knew how to calm me down.

During my appointment, my doctor noticed swelling in one of my breasts. “It’s probably nothing,” she said. “But let’s do an ultrasound for reassurance.” I felt the presence of both my parents with me, which helped me stay relaxed and confident that I didn’t need to worry.   

When I arrived at Terrenea Resort I could feel my shoulders relax. The Pacific Ocean felt like home and always had that effect on me. I casually followed the path along the cliff to Nelson’s. The hostess seated me at an outdoor table with a yellow umbrella on the edge of the patio. I was finally ready for a glass of wine to toast during lunch. Unfamiliar with any of the Chardonnays on the wine list, one caught my eye - Newton “Skyside.” Newton is the surname of my aunt and uncle, and my parents are now living sky side. As for the meal, I knew exactly what I had to order. My parents loved prime rib. My dad and I ordered a French dip sandwich whenever possible, and there was a prime rib dip sandwich on the menu.

Once I ordered my meal and my glass of wine arrived, I messaged Paige and Lynn a photo of the view. Then I walked over to the cliff to take a picture of the toast and captured the perfect shot. I looked at the photo with tears, noticing details I hadn’t seen before. When looking at the photo, I realized the wildflowers were yellow daisies. My mom loved yellow flowers, but there was another significance. When we moved from Redondo Beach to the San Diego area in 1971, my dad took a job as manager of a coffee shop called Daisies.

After paying the bill, it was time to say goodbye to my mom and dad. As I sprinkled their ashes over the edge of the cliff, I thanked them for hanging out with me over the past two days, just like old times with teasing and laughter. I finally heard their voices again.

My dad said, “My beautiful girl, we aren’t leaving you. We’re not connected to these ashes; we’re connected to you. We’re forever with you in your mind, your heart, and your soul.”