Sleeper Waves

People are resilient. We really are. We bounce back. I have to believe this. It seems to have become my mantra as of late.

My aunt once said that grief is like a sleeper wave. You can walk along the beach day after day and the water will be calm. Then one day, in one short moment – WHAM – out of nowhere a huge wave crashes down on you. That has always rang true for me.

I have gone for weeks without getting emotional about Ray. But today, today I was hit by a sleeper wave. Today is Ray's birthday. Or was. And I'm pissed off about it. This is not how it's supposed to be. People aren't supposed to go over a dinky waterfall on an inner tube and get their foot caught. That's not the way it's supposed to happen. They aren't meant to struggle at the end. And their close friend isn't supposed to watch it happen either. When Ram struggled to free Ray from the rock he did everything he possibly could. The water was too deep, the current was too strong. And Ray wasn't giving up either. He fought so much that those trying to save him couldn't even put their mouth on his to give him air.

I've heard that drowning is peaceful, once you accept and let go. I hope that's true. I hope that once Ray stopped struggling, he had a moment of peace. I hope he had a calming thought. Maybe he thought, “I'll get to see my mom and brother now.” I know that's too romantic. I know that when I've had near death experiences, I wasn't thinking anything profound. When I was hit by a car, my life didn't flash before my eyes. What went through my head as a huge van barreled down on me in my tiny car was, “What is she doing? What the hell is she doing?” My thoughts were more incredulous. I couldn't understand why the driver was leaving her lane and coming straight at me.

When I was about 7 years old my family visited our cousins in upstate New York. They had a huge apple orchard and an in ground pool. We were used to swimming in shallow creeks, so my older brother and I spent every moment in that lovely blue, clean, pool that we could. Our fingers were waterlogged after hours and hours in the water. I remember being disappointed that we had to leave the pool to eat dinner. My brother was out before I was and I was taking my sweet time, not wanting to get out, hoping no one would notice. I inched towards the middle of the pool, where a slant downward led to the deep side. My foot slipped, and I slid down to where I couldn't touch bottom. I was so tired after swimming for hours that I had no energy to move. Instead, I just sank and let my mouth and nose fill with chlorinated water. I didn't struggle. I just let go. I felt lethargic and warm and ready to go. It wasn't until my brother yanked me out and I was surrounded by grown-ups pounding my chest that I got scared and started to cry.

I realize this is a disjointed post. I guess I'm just trying to work some things out here. We all want our deaths to be something peaceful. We don't want to suffer, or for those we love to suffer. But maybe there's some middle ground,. Maybe at the end, yes, Ray did suffer and struggle, and had incredulous thoughts. But then I hope he let go. I hope he felt lethargic and warm when his older brother reached his arms around him and pulled him to a better place.

As for me, I'm sure there are other sleeper waves out there. I've been hit by them before, and I know they will crash down on me again, when I least expect it. But I'm resilient. I'll bounce back. I always do.