A River Killed My Sister

About a year ago, my sister fell into a river and drowned. I walk a lot by rivers and every time I look into that water and wonder, "Can this river kill me?" I guess the answer is always yes since they say you can drown in 1/2 inch of water.

I don't have a huge fear of rivers. I still walk on the edge and sit on the rocks than line them but I can't do it without thinking of my sister. She actually fell off a rock after having her picture taken. I'm sure she never imagined she would fall off that rock and die especially since she was an avid hiker; but now that's what I imagine each time I step on a river rock. I take a little extra time to make sure my footing is solid and that the rocks are stable.

This picture is of Rock Creek. As I was walking along I saw a sign that warned people of strong undercurrents and I knew for sure that this river could kill me. But it didn't and for that I am grateful. It allowed me to walk along the edge and stand on the rocks and take this picture. I survived taking this picture. Strangely, my sister wasn't as lucky on her last hike to a river.

I guess I tell you this as a warning, be careful on the river's edge. Admire it's beauty but know that it is stronger and more powerful than it looks. And, just for the heck of it, tell your family that you love them; it can't hurt.

All Things Considered

I'm doing ok. People come and go in your life and it's up to you to make sense of it all. But sometimes there's no sense to be made. You just have to let it wash over you and become a piece of you.

My sister passed away in December, four days before Christmas. I found the whole ordeal rather surreal. I describe it this way, it feels like somebody picked me up and placed me down in a parallel universe where everything is exactly the same, but nothing is the same at all. What makes it feel even more surreal is that my mom went into the hospital in October and came out with congestive heart failure. My sisters and I all had to come to terms with the fact that my mom could die. My mom didn't die and she is, in fact, recovering. But then somebody did die. It's a weird twist of fate that makes you wonder what game the universe is playing.

I can't really describe the feelings, because I don't really understand them all just yet. I'm strangely sensitive. I cry more easily at the strangest things. I suddenly understand what to say to people during their time of great loss. And even though I feel an emptiness, I also feel a greater connection to the world around. But that connection is not strong, just stronger than it was.

I don't talk much about it. There's a lot about the whole event that I would like to let go. It was a crazy time for my family and it took everything I had to keep sane. I'm afraid there may be a time in the near future when I have to go through it all over again and I doubt my ability to survive. But you can't live your life in fear, you just go on like everything is the same, but different.

So all things considered, I'm doing ok.

Rut

As I approach middle-age, I realize I've gotten into a rut. So many things wrong with that sentence. First, middle-age. What the hell is that? I don't feel middle-aged. When did old hit me? When did all this added age become a part of me? I still see the face of a 12-year old when I look in my mirrors - my magic, magic mirrors. Second, rut. Life use to be an adventure. Things were always happening to me, not all good, but things would happen so often I would always be asking myself, "Why do these things always happen to me?"

My friend called me the other day and was complaining about life always being... the same. I laughed out loud. He's not middle-aged yet, but he can see it coming around the bend. I've been living it for quite sometime. It weirdly hits me the most every week as I take the same sheets off the same bed and throw them in the same washing machine and wash them with the same detergent and the same fabric softener. "Didn't I just do this?" I think to myself. How did my life become a series of events that culminate in a weekly sheet washing event?

I now totally understand why people go through a mid-life crisis. I thought it was silly when I was young, when I was traveling, exploring, becoming me. I didn't understand what 13 years of living in the exact same place, doing the exact same thing could do to a person. I mean, thank god I didn't know what it meant, that would be a horrible way to spend your youth, worrying about being old! But now that I know, I'm not sure what to do with the information.

Buy different sheets? Really, doesn't constitute a change.

Buy a new car? It's just a car.

Burn down your house, move to Mexico and learn to speak Spanish? Too improbable and there's no reason to destroy a perfectly good house.

I have no idea what to do now; how to see the world with new eyes when I know almost exactly what is going to happen tomorrow. And I know with unwavering certainty that I am going to wash those same sheets with the same detergent and the same fabric softener in less than a week.