Running Rivers

 

Rivers, running water has always been a metaphor for our life’s journey.  Water is the essence of our life.  I love being on the water.  Metaphorically, I see all of us on the same river, in different boats, tubes, kayaks or something floating with the current.  The river keeps us moving on your journey.

We all get on at different times, we all move down the river at different speeds using different and original ways to stay afloat in the river.  Sometimes the water is smooth, and you have to paddle, sometimes it’s dry and you have to portage, sometimes it’s a raging current with rapids and rocks.  The river, life, is never static, it never sits still.

I always felt like, as a caregiver, Marty and I got out of the river back in 2005 with her first stroke.  Her illness put us in dry dock, and we got stuck in the mud of the riverbank.

The river kept flowing, the different boats with our family, friends and fellow humans kept moving down river.  You cannot stop the water, you cannot stop the flow, you can’t stop the boats, kayaks, and tubes from moving down to the next bend in the river. 

As Marty and I sat on the bank dealing with our new life we watched the river flow by us, watching as all we ever knew, all we were engaged with moved on down the river without us.  The river keeps moving and everyone on the river keeps moving with the flow.  Life moves on and if you are on the side, it leaves you sitting on the bank.

The bank of the river is neither bad nor good.  People moving on with their lives, paddling down the river, doing the back stroke, are living, moving with the flow and continuing their journey as they should.  On the bank, watching, you know you are missing fundamental evolutionary changes occurring in people’s lives and ideas. 

It is part of life.

And then, when you, who has been caring for their spouse, their parent, their child,  or their grandchild start to put your foot back in the river, when you consciously make the decision to launch your dinghy in the river again, you come to the realization you have missed some stuff. 

You have not evolved in the same way or same rate as your friends and family who have been pushed down stream from you.  You discover there are new people, new thoughts, new ideas, new ways of doing things and you missed out on that transition. 

You find yourself in the flow not really knowing what the new relationships and ideas are.  You are out of the flow with life.

I suspect that’s why, when people try to get back into that flow they are slow to understand new rules, they are hesitant to make commitments, they are a little reluctant to engage in the same way they did before.  Fear of not knowing how life and people have changed makes you a different kind of stranger.

I took care of Marty for 14 years.  For the first five I did nothing but be with Marty.  With the help of my family, friends, and exceptionally reliable care givers I started to push my boat back into the water.  I was scared I would not know how to row, how to get to the middle and how to stay close enough to Marty so I would not ever leave her behind me.  

I am still a little scared and as it turns out commitment phobic.  So for all of us who have stood on the bank and watched life move forward, bear with us, maybe someday we will catch up to you after we get over the sea sickness