What do you do when the unthinkable happens? How do you keep moving forward when life is turned on its head? How do you exist when life makes no sense, where there’s no path forward and no seeming end to the heartache?
My dad and brother sailed off on Friday June 13, 1986. Dad was 48 and Luke had celebrated his 21st birthday a few months earlier. They were going from Durban to Cape Town, on a 40 foot yacht. We expected to see them in a few days. Instead, they left and never returned.
We were living in Durban, South Africa. I was 17 and in Grade 12. I couldn’t wait to finish up with school and start my life as an adult. University was around the corner and a life of freedom, fun and adventure awaited me in just a few short months. But first I had to get through my final months of high school – matric as we call it in South Africa. The last few months of matric are a climax of your whole school career as you head into your trials and then final exams. Everything rests on the results of your finals. Whether you get to go to university or not exclusively depends on your finals’ grades and so, to me, my whole future was wrapped up in those finals.
It was June and I had an exciting school field trip coming up. It was to the Grahamstown Art Festival for a few days and a small group of us were fortunate enough to be going. I could hardly believe I was one of the lucky ones and was counting down the days.
At the last minute, my dad had asked my brother, Luke, if he wanted to join him on a sailing trip from Durban to Cape Town. It was only supposed to be a few days and would be a great experience to share. Luke hadn’t planned to go but then decided he would. They were due to leave shortly before I was heading on my school trip to Grahamstown.
Our last night together
The night before they were leaving, Luke unexpectedly came home earlier than he normally did. He joined mom, Glen (my younger brother) and I in the lounge and we all sat around chatting, having fun and really enjoying being together. It was a very special evening and, at the time, we had no idea how much we’d treasure it. Looking back, I truly think this was a gift from God.
Luke, aged 21, at a party just two short weeks before they left.
Dad was just 48 years old when this happened – younger than I am.
Then on Friday June 13, 1986 they left.
As I’m writing this, I have to keep stopping. My eyes are tearing up and I feel overcome with emotion. My brain wants to deflect attention elsewhere. It doesn’t want to go there because even after all these years, 33 now, it’s still a deep, raw wound on my heart. It’s a loss that I will never “recover” from. I will never get over it. It was a “line in the sand” moment for me and since then, my life has been divided into two segments – before and after this defining experience.
They sailed from Durban along the eastern coast of South Africa. There were six of them on this concrete yacht, Wave Leaper. They stopped in East London and two of the men got off as they had to return to work. The remaining four, including Dad and Luke, sailed out from East London, heading to Cape Town. They were never seen, or heard from, again. No sign of them or the yacht was ever found. They just disappeared.
I had left shortly after Luke to go on my field trip to Grahamstown. It was a long way away from home (for me) and it was fun to be going with my best friend, and other friends, from school. The first couple of days were so exciting. We were staying on the Grahamstown University campus, which made us feel very grown up, and we were having all sorts of new, wonderful adventures.
News that the yacht is overdue
Then I got the news that Luke and Dad were a few days overdue in Cape Town. We were told that there was nothing to worry about. That delays sometimes happen and that they’d likely arrive any day now. But they didn’t. As they days went on, we became more and more concerned.
I returned home from my school trip and they still hadn’t arrived in Cape Town. We were getting really worried. One day during this time I went across to the corner store, and saw a pile of newspapers. On one of them, I saw an article about a boat suspected to be missing. I read closer and I saw the boat’s name was The Wave Leaper. The article was talking about the boat that Dad and Luke were on.
I remember being overwhelmed with emotion. What was this? How could I be reading this? How could there be an article about my dad and brother? What was going on? This made no sense.
Things like this only happened in the movies, not to us
With tears streaming down my face I ran home and relayed what I’d seen in the newspapers to my mom. I had so many questions running through my mind and yet it all felt surreal. Like this couldn’t possibly be happening to our family. This only happens in the movies. It doesn’t happen to us. And yet it was. And this was just the beginning.
As the days unfolded, there was new information about where they could be, what might have happened and what we should do. It was confusing to navigate through the authorities, to know who was doing what or identify where to get the necessary help. It was an overwhelming blur of excruciating pain and stress coexisting, inharmoniously, with the demands of everyday life.
In the midst of tragedy, every day life goes on
The urge to retreat into a dark space and disappear from the world, from the trauma of reality and the demands of life, was overwhelming. Shortly after this tragedy began, my matric trial exams started in August, followed by my finals in November. Under normal circumstances, this is a very stressful time for any matric student. Under these circumstances, it was unbearable.
I’m truly not sure how I made it through these months and graduated well. I don’t think it could have been me at all. My only explanation is that it was another gift from God. During this time, He did for me what I simply could not do for myself.
Every day, I’d run home from school thinking that “maybe today will be the day.” I’d hope and pray that I’d walk inside and they’d be there, sitting on the couch, drinking tea. But each day, the devastating disappointment would land heavily in my stomach as I’d walk inside and realize that today wasn’t going to be that day. This routine went on in my mind for literally years. No finality. No answers. How do you ever stop hoping? How does the pain ever start to soften? I just couldn’t imagine.
I became angry. So, so very angry. It settled just below the surface, festering. Inside I was a seething mess. To most of the world, I was handling things well, getting on with life. I finished up my final months of high school and went straight to university, to do a Bachelor of Commerce degree. A few years later I graduated and started my career in Marketing. It may have appeared that I didn’t miss a beat but that wasn’t true at all.
I became skilled at compartmentalizing. I had to compartmentalize. I had no way of processing the trauma, the heartache, the sadness. How do you equip yourself to handle something so unimaginable? How would I ever find my way through this deep seated pain? Compartmentalizing helped me get through the day but it did nothing to deal with the crushing pain.
Crippled by the “why” questions
A very deep seated anger at God took residence in my heart. It wasn’t that I rejected Him being the creator of the universe. But I decided that if He was capable of inflicting such tragedy and pain on our family, then I wanted nothing to do with Him. The “why” questions just about did me in. Why did He do this to us? Why did He take both my dad and my brother? Why would He take such a young man who had just returned from two very intense years of compulsory military service? Why are good people made to suffer? Why we were left with no answers? Why was nothing ever found?
Why? Why? Why?
For nine years I was trapped in this place of why. It robbed me of my joy, my peace and my hope. I envied my younger brother who had found his faith to be a source of strength and encouragement. When he tried to share this with me in his quiet, kind way, I was not interested. I didn’t want to hear about it because I needed answers and until I had them, I felt that I would never be at peace with God again.
As the years passed, my heart slowly began to soften towards God a little. I began to desire this personal relationship with Him that I saw Glen, and others, had. I started going to church with Glen and my mom sometimes, when it suited me. I was seeking but I hadn’t given my whole self, thwarted by all my “why” questions that I still carried with me.
He performed a miracle in my heart
It would take me another few years to come to a place of brokenness when I found myself crying out to God through my tears. Pleading for Him to help me. And He did. It’s hard to explain but, in a moment, I went from having all these unanswered questions that I had wrestled with for so long to being at peace with not having answers this side of Heaven, or maybe ever. I felt that deep personal connection to my Heavenly Father that I had so craved, and prayed for, but had not experienced. I knew from that moment on that, regardless of what might happen in my life or in the world, NOTHING changes the character of God. I was released from the need to have answers to my questions, because, regardless, God is God and He is good. No circumstance in my life, or in the world, changes this. For me to reach a point of peace about this was, without question, a miracle.
It’s been 33 years since Luke and Dad went missing. We still have no answers. We still carry pain in our heart. They are still dearly missed. And we carry our memories of them like precious treasures in our hearts. Life since then has had many wonderful moments but also a hefty dose of challenges. I still struggle, fail and wrestle with life’s difficulties. But I never question God’s goodness. He is absolutely the reason that I’m able to have hope in the midst of circumstances that seem hopeless, unfair or tragic.
Beauty can emerge from the most unlikely places
Through the hardest times in my life, He has taken my brokenness, pain and struggles and transformed these into tools of hope, perseverance, faith and empathy. I apply these in my life to get me through the difficult times. The best part is that I’m able to use these tools to encourage others. I can relate to their suffering, their sadness, their anger and their hopelessness. I can meet them where they’re at because I’ve been there. And, I can sit with them, take their hand and let them know that they are not alone. And in so doing, I can pass on the love of God that He so generously pours into me.
And it reminds me that, in every circumstance, there is the opportunity for something beautiful to emerge.
Luke, a teenager during the ’80s – my cool brother!
Luke skateboarding in his earlier days before surfing took over. He excelled at everything he did.
Dad was always an adventurer! Here he was in his early twenties, taken when he went to Antartica, where they got stuck in the ice for 6 weeks.
24 replies to "How Do You Continue When The Unthinkable Happens?"
i remember this like it was yesterday – my heart is with you xx
Thanks for remembering him Debbie 💕
Thank you for sharing your story Blythe. Your very precious memories of your dad and brother………. and your hard struggle with the loss of them. I cannot imagine never knowing what happened – you are strong and brave. And so are your mom and brother. Love your writing. Your mom’s art, and your writing. Make a book! ♥
Thanks so much for taking time to read our story. Sharing about them keeps them a part of our lives so, as hard as it is, it’s important for us and also to encourage others. 💕
I will never forget. I had such empathy for you all
Thanks Bevvie 😘
This is such a wonderful testimony Blythe, thank you for sharing. Luke was in my class in Brighton Beach primary school, always a gentle, polite guy. He surfed at our local beach and I was shocked at his disappearance. I hope we meet him again in glory one fine day!
I love hearing people’s memories of Luke and like you say, I look forward to seeing them again one day. 💕
I read every word Blythe.
In the quietness at 5:30am on the carpet of my study, your pain and hopelessness brought back memories of 2018; for me my darkest days. But then the Light in your words came bursting through, as He reminded you (and me) that we’re never alone!!
Thank you so much for sharing your heart – lots of love little sister.
Each of us have our bag of struggles that we carry with us. Sharing helps us know we are not alone and, like others, we can survive and overcome. Lots of love 😘
My dearest Blythe
Thank you for sharing this painful story . You are a brave and loving human and the world is a better place because of you.
I wish I could provide words of comfort to you but know that there are none. instead sending you an abundance of love …
xx
Kathy
Thanks so much Kathy! 💕 How blessed I am to have you be such a big part of my journey through life. 😘
Blythe strong message. Thanks for sharing .
Thanks Leon 💕
So beautifully written Blythe – I have no words for your loss and pain 😢
Thanks Caron 😘💕
That was truly a terrible time for the family as a whole and unimaginable for your Mom, Glen and yourself. So sad for all your struggles but happy you have now found serenity. You all are loved very much.
It was a tragedy for all of us. Much love Leigh-Leigh 😘💕
Thank you for sharing. I know there is no one who can imagine what it’s like to experience what you have…but your written story brings us as close as possible.
I worked with your father all those years ago. How strange that it should just come to my mind and I thought that I’d do an internet search. I am now half a world away having left SA 20 years ago but I still remember it so well. This must have been so difficult for you. My heart goes out to you, god bless.
I just saw your comment, Dave, and it made me so happy to think that you’d thought about my dad after all these years. When and where did you work together? How funny that you’d do an internet search and find your way to my blog.
I too left almost 20 years ago and am also half a world away now, living in Seattle. The memories and love travel with us wherever we go. God bless.
I remember this so well Blythe. Thank you for sharing this. You keep their memory alive everyday. Thinking of you. Mich
Oh Blythe. I remember this so clearly, and always thinking how strong you are.
I can clearly remember this devastating tragedy, my friend … We met during this time and I always admired your strength – not knowing how you were struggling inside … We all have so many questions but we our faith tells us that God always knows best and His plans are never to harm … Very difficult for us to understand but having accepted that, our hearts are filled with peace … My thoughts and prayers are with all of you during this difficult time of remembrance … Love and miss you lots xxx