There is a pattern to
life; we are born, we give life, we die. A woman wrestles the wind and waves,
lands her boat ashore, helps her child to build her own boat, then watches and
cheers silently (and sometimes not so silently) as her child tackles wind and
waves, headed to find her own shore on which to land. The
tragedy of watching a child’s boat succumb to the waves and disappear is
against all nature. The pattern is irrevocably broken, the horizon damaged
beyond repair.
My dearest friend lost her daughter in a car
accident. It was a good car, a car with the latest safety features and airbags.
Her daughter had never had an accident or a ticket. She was not doing drugs.
She was not drinking. It was in the middle of the day on a good, dry road. None
of those things that we parents check off our list mattered, because it still
happened. These things happen.
We can track our daughters, limit them, bind
them in bubble wrap, and duct tape them to the kitchen chair or explain, teach,
demand, and pray, but still, these things happen and eventually, despite our
fear, we have to help our daughters launch that boat.
It is what we do on our shore
with them that matters. It is the time we spend building that boat, teaching
them to read the waves and wind. It is how and what we do together that
matters.
If we spend our time arguing over the
narrowness of the keel, the depth of the hull, how widely the seats are spaced,
or the color of the sail; that is what we have when they are gone.
If we build the boat to our standards, making
them watch, not do, because it must be perfect; not allowing them to know their
own vessel, fearful and unaware of what it can and cannot do; that is what
we have when they are gone.
If we nap on the beach or make new sails for
our own boats, ignoring their calls for guidance; that is what we have when
they are gone.
But if, like my dearest friend, we sit with them, smoothing the rough
edges, weaving the sail, and laughing together at the seagulls who perch on the
rim and watch as our daughters work; then that is what we have when they are
gone.
