We all have family.

Family members die.

It's inevitable.

If sailors are lucky, their family members die with a kind of foreseeable order. Few things are as painful as burying your own children. We're lucky.

There are endless anchorages, sunsets, and glorious days at sea. All of which involve a tiny bit of worry. "What if CA's sister needs help because their father is dying?" "What if my sisters need help because my father or mother is dying?"

And there are the second-order calamaties. "What if CA's sister's post-auto-accident damage incapacitates her? Who takes care of her and dad and her special-needs son?"

And there are yet more distant, tangential disasters. "If we make a mess of things. how will our kids liquidate whatever remains of Red Ranger without incurring salvage and storage fees?"

How we prepare for family deaths is as important as how we prepare out boat for heading off shore.

Since our coastal ocean passages tend to be short -- one or two days -- we make sure we're up-to-date on family issues before we leave. This reduces surprises.

(Nothing eliminates surprises.)

We're blessed by family who are taking care of the previous generation. We have sisters looking after moms and dads.

We all take turns at elder care. CA & I spent a few weeks hanging out with my mom, for example, in the dead of winter last year. We had Red Ranger in a slip, we took the train back to the DC area where we stowed the truck, and drove on up into the frozen north. See The Palmetto

Years ago, of course, moms and dads came to visit us. See Parental Outing

Also see Family Outing

The big change I need to make is taking my father out of the FindMeSpot notification list. See Find Me Spot -- Southbound 2021. I had set this up to provide detailed positions to dad, who worried about us being lost at sea. Now, we've moved beyond worry.

Ten years later, my father, Win, has recently pulled up his anchor and set sail in the seas beyond this world. CA's father, Bill, while still very much with us, can't really leave the house. We send him pictures. My mother, Judy, can get around, but I doubt she could get through the lifelines and down into the cockpit safely. She's almost 90.

Hurricane season lasts until November 30th. We'll be looking forward to starting repairs as soon as we can.