Watery Cliches

 I keep meaning to write something about the ocean.

In the earliest days after Juniper died. Perhaps before he was even born. I was plagued by thoughts of the ocean and feeling so adrift. I tried to make my overwhelming sadness and anger fit into something tangible. Something I could understand.

  The ocean is a cold-blooded killer. Here on the coast of Pacific Northwest we have what they call "sneaker waves" they come out of nowhere and will grab you off the shore and drag you under and out into the ocean before you know what hit you. Now, this is an obvious metaphor right?

  I tried to think of grief like drowning. Waves washing over you, pulling you down. Vast expanse of water. Don't know where to swim. Don't know if I have the strength. My friends, seagulls swirling above screeching encouragement, but always able to fly back to land. Not caught in the maelstrom. Imagining the refuge of an island sometimes. Etc...

   I've been struggling with this particular metaphor. I try to make it fit. To explain how I feel about what I am dealing with. But, It doesn't quite fit.

   At a black sand beach (I can't remember what it was called, but you had to scale a cliff to get to it) on the big island of Hawaii there is a serious undertow just about 100 feet or so from the shore. It caught me once, because I was distracted watching dolphins porpoise across the mouth of the bay. Luckily I am a very strong swimmer, and happened to have my wits about me. I dove under the waves and swam as hard as I could in a zig-zag back to shore. It was terrifying and exhausting, but also exhilarating. I had cheated death. That time.

  You know what? I am NOT afraid of the ocean. I love it. It's sounds are soothing. It's breezes refreshing. It's ability to sustain such a wide variety of life awe inspiring. It's saline content, so similar to that of our very blood and tears. It did try to kill me, but I won. I know how to be careful with it.

 As much as I want to use this, I cannot. I am a good swimmer. The ocean did not do this to me. I wanted to take my baby to the ocean. It does not fit. I cannot swim against this. There is no refuge from this ... The metaphor offers hope of some distant shore. Not that I am hopeless. But, there is not that. It doesn't fit.