Thursday, December 01, 2011
Greeley, CO USA
Plunging deep below the 59◦ Fahrenheit waters of Table Rock Lake in Missouri led me to my longest and deepest dive coupled with a face to face conversation with death, Christ and myself. I had the magical experience of seeing my first ship wreck lodged onto some silt covered rocks and bashfully hiding her damaged port side. “Miss Gayly,” as I discovered after some gentle exploration on her hull with a fingertip and a flashlight, had sunken with a hit to the side and the key still in the ignition. No one knows what happened to her passengers, but I felt as if I had my own mystery tale to unravel.
Continuing on, my father and the guide, AJ, and I had difficulties with visibility as we meandered over the cliff edge and dove deeper down into the darkness. Though the sun ruled the surface waters on that breezy but beautiful Wednesday, silt and algae took their claim on the depths. In the 1970s, a city called Oasis, Missouri was evacuated and drowned out by the damming of the river to create a reservoir. To this day the city, several boats and a forest remain untouched and unmoving below the surface as the bottom plunges to roughly 225 feet deep. The forest itself, around 88 feet down and off the edge of a smooth cliff is hauntingly beautiful. Her shadows lie a few feet from each other and unraveled their tales to my doubting eyes slowly as my fins cautiously navigated the water behind me. As I desperately tried to maintain sights on my father swimming in front of me, hold my flashlight in a generally straight manner despite the pesky light refraction underwater, maintain neutral buoyancy, navigate the trees and keep my goggles cleared, a renegade shadow branch grasped my regulator cord and ripped it out of my mouth. In my attempts to regain my mouthpiece, time slowed to a standstill and I floated helplessly in a desperate strain toward oxygen and sight in the blackened, gloom of the forest. I felt as if I was hanging from a limb, weightless, stranded and face to face with Monsieur la Mort, gentleman of the demise. He looked me straight in the eye and asked me one question; “Are you prepared to meet your maker and end this strange adventure you call life here on earth?” Silent, yet still reaching for my lifeline, I felt a gentle and bizarre peace set over my shoulders and slide over my wetsuit until it had engulfed me. “Yes, I am. I am ready to die.” In uttering these words to whomever I was talking to, two things came to me quite suddenly and abrasively.
1.) I had not said goodbye to my mother.
2.) I had not told the man I loved that I, indeed, loved him.
I knew full well that my friends and family knew how much I loved them, for I sought to show it and express it as often as possible, yet for some reason I could not shake these two things. Death raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s the conclusion then, darling?” In this moment, I imagined Christ himself handing me my regulator and murmuring gently, “Bethany, I have so many plans for you. I want you to continue to love and continue to learn. Keep swimming.”
Suddenly, as I placed my regulator back into my desperate mouth and cleared it of un-breathable water, time rushed back into place and I could hear the familiar repetition of respiration as my own life bubbles danced in the water above my head. Keep swimming. Keep loving. Keep learning. Those are tasks toward which I can strive. Those are tasks that I can handle. Those are tasks that I adore, in fact.
Though I became lost a time or two after that and I continued to view caves, cracks, cliffs and catfish, this memory haunted my soul. Among the shadows of a forgotten forest, I came face to face with something that used to scare me and realized that I have but two regrets. I saw my mother again, so that was taken care of. As for number 2, I called him a few days later and my heart is still smiling.
