Looking back on the pastyear as I contemplated goals for the next, I remembered the bright, hot Sunday morning in June when I spoke with my father for the last time as I walked along the public right-of-way that runs atop the sea wall at Diamond Head between the Makalei and Leahi beach parks. The path is bounded by the massive rock walls of waterfront mansions on one side and on the other by a metal railing and a six-foot drop to the water’s edge.

As I walked, cell phone to my ear, I passed a fellow surfer, red-haired Brian, walking the other way and talking on his phone. We nodded and smiled a tad ruefully, as if to acknowledge we wouldn’t be here on shore if there were waves.

But walking is as good as surfing when it comes to reflection.

Dad spoke over a phone held to his ear by an attendant in the North Carolina senior living community where, as his health rapidly deteriorated, he had been relocated twice in two months.

First, appearing disoriented, he was moved from the cottage he shared with my stepmother to an assisted-living apartment where she was not allowed to stay with him. Soon after, the management deemed him incompetent and placed him in the total-care facility where I finally got through to him after several calls to offices and attendants’ stations in different buildings.

My brothers hadn’t been able to reach Dad by phone in the week or so since his most recent move, but my training as a journalist helped me track him down.

They put me through to the attendant who was feeding him lunch and who shouted so loudly it made me jump: “Mr. Pennybacker, your daughter’s on the phone, she wants to speak with you!”

I had been warned that Dad was incoherent, but he gave an exclamation of surprise and recognition as soon as he heard me say “Dad.” He said my name in his soft, gentle voice and asked about my brother who also lives in Hawaii.

I said Robert was coming to see him for his 88th birthday in July.

“That’s fine! I’m looking forward to that,” Dad said.

Then he began talking at the speed of his thoughts, far faster than he could shape his words. His voice blended with the roar of the wind and the sea. He wasn’t making sense per se, but I could hear and feel his happiness and love, sadness and confusion, all wrapped into a kind of musical refrain by a lifelong horn player and listener of jazz.

Dad also loved the sea. Every summer, he and my stepmother rented a house on the shore at Ogunquit, Maine, where they swam in the frigid shorebreak every day. I hoped he could hear the waves in the background as we spoke.

He died before Robert could get there.

WE ALL experience loss every year, whether in person, through loved ones, acquaintances or the news. Mortality is the human condition, some would say what makes us human.

Life is tenuous, as surfers know. The ocean is unpredictable and far stronger than us; we can’t fight it, we have to respect it.

Now nature itself seems mortal as the planet warms, ecosystems are thrown off balance, weather grows more violent and sea levels rise. Sunset Beach is caving into the sea; North Korea missiles can now strike anywhere in the U.S.

My resolution for 2018, which is predicted to kick off with an extreme high tide in the islands, is to keep my head.

Brian, a fellow Suis and sea wall frequenter, inspired me the other day when a surfer snaked a wave from him.

“At least someone got it,” he said with a laugh.

A divinity student, he said he prayed for waves.

“For everyone,” he added. “Because if everyone gets waves they’re happier, and that’s better for me.”

He was studying Greek.

“Here’s your Greek word of the day: agape. It means ‘love,’” Brian said.

In English it means “wonderstruck,” a feeling that, along with peace, I plan to give a chance in the coming year.

“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.