The River of Life

This photo reminds me of life – both amazingly tranquil and beautiful while also turbulent. It prompts us to recognize that sometimes we experience rapids as well as soft, smooth moments. Branches snag us for a moment as we float by, keeping small bits of ourselves hung up in the past while life rushes forward. It is both colorful and deep. You can drown, float or swim. No matter your choice, life rushes forward, headlong. Downhill? Perhaps. Without some downhill sections there would be no rapids, no rush, no excitement and joy at the thrill of the ride. Eternal? Perhaps, but certainly ever-changing. Controllable? No. Containable. Maybe. Capture the flow and try to control it – for a time we may have some success but then life overflows the banks and rushes forward.

This photo mostly reminds me of my mother. Not only because she would love the scene itself; not only because she loved nature, fall, and water, but also because it is deep and much is hidden below the surface. As for most of us, my mother’s life was complicated – full of joy, excitement and bitter disappointment. Yet, as life flowed forward – sometimes rapidly, slamming into rocks and at other times eddying up in tranquil pools, my mother seemed always constant, steadfast, eyes wide open, and, occasionally, hanging on for dear life. She had her bitter disappointments – in herself, in her husband, in her dreams and, even, in her children and (maybe) her grandchildren. And while she got bruised and cut on the rocks of the flow of her life, she still endured, thrived, and hoped.

The flow of my mother’s life gave me so many gifts – creativity, vision, a love of learning and science, the love of nature and the outdoors, the realization that regardless of one’s wealth (or lack thereof), our job is to care for others, to give back, to help without expectation of recognition or recompense. I recognize that whatever creative and artistic abilities I have, I got from my mother. I got other gifts too – the gift of migraines, gall bladder issues and, a short (and my mother would add) “dumpy” stature. I also was gifted with a keen intellect, a quick wit, and an abiding curiosity for exploration and discovery. These all, I know, came from my mother. She passed along her stoicism, pragmatism and work ethic. I can recall no time having a conversation with my mother on any of these life lessons or behaviors. She simply lived them, unapologetically, sometimes frustratingly, but always perceptibly. My mother taught me how to be a leader, not a boss, but a leader (my siblings might argue this point with me). She also taught me resilience – how to respond when your entire life is turned upside down and your hopes and dreams are smashed upon the rocks.

I was almost twelve when my parents divorced. Even at that age I could see that bits of my mother remained snagged in the past. Yet, she moved forward, jumped in and swam like heck with four young children on her back. I sometimes marvel at her strength (although it may have been Scottish stubbornness). She was only 21 when my oldest brother was born and had two children and was divorced by age 25, remarried only a few years later and was 28 when I came along with three babies to follow after that. I know that her life did not turn out as she planned it. I know that she was always disappointed (in her young self perhaps) for completing only one semester of college. Yet, all of her children graduated from college and half of us have advanced degrees – a testament to her silent witness.

And so, on this June 5th, what would have been my mother’s 79th birthday had she lived, I have selected this photo that I took in a nature preserve outside of Chicago (my mother’s birthplace) because it reminds me of her, her strength, her character, her beauty and even her deep secrets that she kept to herself. It reminds me that life moves fast and does not stop for branches in the way. It reminds me of her (and my own) love of nature, the outdoors and water. It makes me feel close to her because this is a photo that I took and this artistic expression is of her genes, through me. It reminds me that I too have those stubborn Scottish genes and to never give up and enjoy the ride. It reminds me to be the kind of leader that my mother was – humble, quiet, caring and leading my example, showing and helping. I doubt that my mother would recognize these things that I know she did for me. I am sure she would not have ever seen herself as a leader. I am confident that she would have rejected the idea that she led by example. I am not sure that the lessons she taught were conscious or deliberate. She just lived in the stream of her life and, in the process, positively impacted the lives of so many more. I have friends who have told me what type of an impact my mother had on their lives – just because she lived the way that she did.

My mother struggled and failed and succeeded. She was dashed upon the rocks and drug into the depths more times than I probably know. Yet, she always popped back up, resilient, determined, riding the rapids and swimming in the tranquil pools. I don’t think I recognized it as much when I was younger (or when she was alive), but my mother is my role model and my hero. I am pleased that I have been gifted with so many gifts from her and that I am very much like her in many ways. Thanks, mom, for being a role model, leading my example and teaching me to marvel at the beauty and power of the river of life. Miss you.