Waving and Saving

A friend told me a story today about her aged, dementia- suffering father who had quite literally fallen headfirst into a man hole. Luckily he was found by a random passer-by (who also happened to be a doctor) and he was able to save him.

I have never met my friend’s father but despite declining the invitation to see the photographic evidence of his injuries, the visual of his accident was immediately painfully vivid in my head.

Saving fathers, specifically mine, was a theme in my life for many years. Through a few suicide attempts, some addictive behaviours and even a catastrophic natural disaster, we (my mother, brother and I and a few passers-by) tried (and for the most part managed) to rescue my father.

The image of a person with flailing arms in the water from Stevie Smith’s poem “Not Waving but Drowning” that I read as a teenager, has popped into my head over the years almost like a scene in a very familiar movie. Wild hand gestures are mistaken for waving as the drowned man tries, even in death, to convey to the living his lifetime of desperation.

For 18 years I was on high alert. There was seldom a time that I was separated from my phone and I would interrupt most situations to take my father’s calls. I never wanted to miss an SOS call, a last call or any sign of a wave.

It took me a long time to understand that you cannot save someone from themselves. Yes, you can suggest and support and shower them with unconditional love but ultimately it is up to the person to grab at any life raft they can reach, with both hands and save themselves.

With little kids I worked hard at preventing a fall or a burn or a break.

With older ones, it feels harder when trying to defend them from disappointment, heartache and life.

I get that but I still try.

There is a Hallmark card sounding slogan that I’ve seen flashed across social media. It says that God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers. It does not take into account however, that these mothers are also daughters and a whole host of different things to different people.

So as I leave my family (and dog) for a month and fly off to rescue my mother, I will listen carefully to the flight attendant when she says that bit about in the unlikely event of an emergency.

“In the event of a decompression, an oxygen mask will automatically appear in front of you. If you are travelling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask on first and then assist the other person.”

Somewhere in those words I’ve heard so often, there is a reminder that to save my fellow passengers, I need to save myself first.