This morning, I swam naked in the bay at dawn to celebrate the solstice with ten wild and soulful, joy-filled women. Welcoming the light in this essential way pried loose some of the grief that clings to me like cobwebs, weighs me down like rock. As we were splashing into the 51-degree water, someone shouted gleefully, I’m alive, and I felt that in my bones. 

I’m alive. 

The light is returning. 

My dad died on December 12 and the walloping has been mighty.  On principle, my dad was not a big follower of rules; a fact which was not always obvious because most of what he loved best was simply to make the world more beautiful: he grew magical gardens, shaped wood into lovely furniture, and captured the majesty of nature in photographs. While he was decidedly not a swimmer, he would have appreciated the spirit of ten wild women running into the sea at dawn. 

The winter solstice is a time to reflect on darkness while facing the coming of the light. In some Christian traditions, the solstice is known as the Longest Night, or Blue Christmas, and a service is held honoring those experiencing grief. It’s a time of hope which also acknowledges despair. In other words, it’s exactly what I need right now and I’m so grateful for my swimming community for providing me with this ritual to fully experience it. 

My dad was the smartest person I knew, but also the humblest about it. Whatever the opposite of a mansplainer is? That was my dad. His wide-ranging intelligence bubbled up from a lifetime of curiosity, of exploring the world through the lens of a microscope and the lens of a camera, through binoculars and hiking trails and the pages of books. As a boy he spent his days traipsing through the Los Angeles foothills, learning to recognize all the chaparral-dwelling flora and fauna. He turned that passion into a career as a molecular plant biologist and into a life spent exploring nature.

My mom died suddenly when I was a baby, and he became a single father overnight. When I came into my feminism, it used to bug me the way people would be so impressed by that fact, but the truth is, all single parents are impressive. He did not believe his way was the only way of thinking or of doing things; as long as you were on the right side of justice you had his support for whatever path your bliss might take you down. 

My dad will be more surprised than anyone if there is an afterlife, but it’s hard to imagine a light as warm as his fading away. Until his last day of life, his face lit up every time he looked at me. How lucky am I to have been so well loved? He will forever be the voice inside me that says, go out into nature, dig up some dirt and plant something beautiful, read a book, and, mostly, do whatever the hell you want.