Farewell, Granny.

The first time I 'met' J02 (Granny), she surfaced so close to the boat that I felt the mist of her breath rise and fall against my skin. As we sat in stillness with the engines cut, I met her gaze for only half a moment as she rolled around in pursuit of a salmon. It was my first day out on the water collecting research data, and in that one tiny moment of shared eye contact, my life was forever changed. I have had many encounters with J02 and her relatives since, and each one has filled me with the same joy and wonderment I felt that very first 'meeting' so many years ago.

About a week or so ago, just after J034 (Doublestuf)'s cause of death was announced as the result of an accidental boat strike, I awoke from a dream in the middle of the night with a heaviness in my chest and an ache in my heart. Somehow I knew J02 (Granny) was gone. In the dream, I was floating deep underwater, gazing up towards the ripples of the surface where a dim light was slowly fading into darkness. I couldn't (and still cannot) possibly explain how I knew this dream was about J02, but when the news of Granny's disappearance broke a few days later, it came as no surprise.

Granny was a survivor, a matriarch, and a symbol of hope and perseverance — not just to the Southern Residents, but to her extended human family as well. My heart aches for her pod members who have lost far too many members of their family this past year alone. We know these are sentient creatures with unique cultures and language systems. They have the capacity to share intergenerational knowledge and experience grief. Granny surely would have remembered a time in decades past when Southern Residents regularly lived as long as she did, a stark contrast to the premature deaths that plague the Southern Residents in current times.

Lately, I've been pondering how their grieving process might differ when a pod member dies prematurely and tragically (J032, J034) as opposed to one that has lived a full and lengthy life (J02). How do Southern Residents process their grief? Do they have mourning rituals that vary from matriline to matriline? Like humans, is grief something they continue to carry with them, or are they too focused on their own survival in these troubled waters to hold any space for it? These are mysteries we as humans cannot possibly know the answers to.

In our sadness, let us remember what an incredible life Granny lived. As the oldest member of the Southern Resident Killer Whale Population, she lived to see the birth of every single Southern Resident Orca currently alive. Granny survived the SeaWorld capture era of the 60's and 70s, and would have known a time before constant noise pollution, boat traffic, freighters, and tankers. She led her pod through the waves without fail, in pursuit of salmon and sanctuary. Granny was extraordinary. How lucky we were to know her from afar.

May her memory and the many lessons she taught — to humans and orcas alike — be a blessing to us all. May her ancient wisdom continue to lead the Southern Residents forward for generations to come.