Do you think that there is a moment, or a few, at the last breath when a couple of specially salient life memories surface into sharp relief? Do you think that happens?
A long time ago (as in 23 years, which incidentally feels like about last month) when my son Aaron was just over three years old, we visited Jamaica. Aaron very much wanted to swim and see the fish in “the big water”. Let me just say here that I am not what one would call a water person. It isn”t my element. I mean, I like the beach just fine and walking along with the waves gently lapping at my ankles is quite enjoyable. But am I dying to dive in and become one with the waves? Well no. No I am not. (And despite popular opinion, it isn”t just because I don”t want to get my hair wet). I”m not a strong swimmer and as most who know me will attest, including my water loving children (who were most likely merpeople in their prior incarnations) the water is not within my comfort zone. I do, however, like to think of myself as a good sport, so when Aaron wanted to swim in the “big water” I gamely geared up with flippers and snorkel and let a nicely sized, sea worthy vessel drop us off in the middle of the ocean (okay maybe not the middle, but still) by a coral reef. Aaron, brave, water loving soul that he is, was just fine with all of this except for informing me upon disembarking that he would need to hold my hand throughout this imminent deep sea adventure. So like any self respecting Mommy, I choked down my panic, grabbed hold of his hand and proceeded to have one of the most magical experiences of my life. I can still see his little face, sparking eyes and white-blond hair floating around his head (yeah, I know, sorry about that bowl cut, Honey) as we suspended ourselves in that new world. A great part of the magic was knowing that I had the power to provide the sense of safety which made such bliss possible. Another part of the magic is that my son has always had the power to make me bigger than I would be without him.
A couple of weeks ago we took a family vacation to Puerto Rico. And yes, you guessed it, those children wanted to go snorkeling. I just wish to say that it was very clear that a tropical storm was about to blow through. You know how they talk about the crystal clear, calm blue waters of the Caribbean? Yeah, well not so much. Not to mention, all of the local people who looked like they knew what they were doing, we”re getting OUT of the water as we were arriving. But what was I supposed to do amongst a chorus of, “You”re coming in, right Mom?” I do have some pride, so after Christopher made sure that I knew how not to suffocate myself with my snorkeling equipment, taking my own sweet time gearing up, I eased myself into that big water, all the while attempting to wrap my mind around just how very far away amongst the waves swam the three people I love most in the world. Anyway, I made my way past the rocks and into the vastness of said water, laid myself out on the surface and surprising myself, did not sink. I was actually having a pretty decent time floating around out there and the beautifully vivid creatures looking at me were apparently friendly. Nevertheless, this whole breathing under water thing takes some getting used to and I was beginning to consider that I might be on the verge of hyperventilating, when seemingly out of no where, my son took my hand. And I, once again, got bigger.
I could tell you about the reef he guided me to or the otherworldly creatures we saw, but what I really want to tell you is that each relationship has its own terrain. That terrain can bring you to your knees and can lead you back up. If there is a moment or two in the space of the last breath when I revisit one of the most sacred places in the landscape of my life, what happened in that watery space will be one of them.
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