This spring, early in our 1200-mile voyage back to San Carlos, I began an emotional journey no parent should have to take. In an isolated cove on the Baja, we learned that Byce, our 33-year old son, had died. Kendra, our daughter had just joined us, and a voyage anticipated as one of joyous exploration became one of grief.

What would I have done if Kendra had not been with me during this terrible time???

Slowly, through the wonders of Sailmail, we learned some details. He was found in downtown Denver, dead of alcohol poisoning. We take comfort in knowing that it is likely that he went into a coma and died quickly, without knowing anything or feeling pain. As a suspected Fetal Alcohol Syndorme child (adopted by us at 5 weeks) we had worried about his drinking, but were still all shocked.

As Howard and I continued our sailing journey north, I cried a lot. But, as the weeks passed, despite a heavy saddness, the story of a fine young man we had hardly known emerged. Through the wonders of Sailmail, we learned that over 30 had come to his memorial, all speaking of their saddness and of his kindness, honesty, compassion - and corny jokes! We learned that he was the one who was called to help those in pain - for he would always calm those in trouble. He authored articles in the Denver Voice, spoke - a passionalte homeless advocate - in front of city councils, and got many off the streets and into apartments.

When the whole family gathered in Denver in mid-April to celebrate Bryce's life, we had an amazing time, meeting his friends and visiting the parts of Denver he so loved. We cried with his friend, Gilbert, who simply could not believe he was dead. We talked with his friends and employers and over and over we heard of a fine, caring, young man. And, we laughed. Amidst the tears, we remembered that wonderful little boy we so loved.

Just before the sun rose on the day we spread his ashes, he came to me briefly, saying only "Thanks for coming, guys." And, then he was gone, on his own journey.

Saddness is still there, but the grief is tempered by a joy that Bryce, only 33, lived a life rich with good people, people who remember, carrying his compassion and kindness with them.