The River

Last week my father passed away. I spent some time to process the grief and loss and struggled to keep up with my writing for the blog. I had some things pre-scheduled to post and I did a little writing, but I needed to take a little time to work through the death of the man who did his best to raise me and my siblings. As I reflected on this my mind went back to something I wrote in July of 2010. I hope you enjoy.

Calm waters on the Buffalo National River

I took a trip on the river this week with my brother, Ben, and my father. The plan was to camp, kayak and fish. Ben and I spent weeks in preparation. We carefully planned our routes, checked the weather and ever-changing river levels, and then planned our routes again. My excitement grew with every day that passed. I had never been on a float trip with my father in all of my thirty-five years. As we drew near to the weekend we were to set out, we saw some disappointing forecasts. Rain was coming. We checked the weather the day before the trip to find that it was indeed going to rain, but we decided we would tough it out.

We had to get a bit of a late start as we drove out to the river. Along the way, we saw elk lazily grazing in green fields, and the scenic Ozark mountain vistas made the drive a beautiful experience. My father and I talked as we drove. We talked about light, surface things for a while, but it all led to subjects that invoked great feelings, both good and bad. Had he been a good father? Had he been there for us?

They weren’t questions that I could answer without dredging up painful memories. I just sat there and listened... and thought. He had tried to be a good dad. He just didn’t know how. He came from a line of men who didn’t know how to deal with the struggles of life. Not the struggles of hardship. They were men who didn’t shy away from tough tasks or strenuous labor. No, the struggles they didn’t know how to deal with were the smaller, but immensely harder struggles. Relationships. I mulled over those thoughts for the rest of the drive out.

Our first night of camping lightened my mood. Camp was set up in no time and we set to the task of getting our fire going. I made our first camp meal. Despite the wait, I believe it went over well. A little extra preparation and you can certainly beat the standard camp fare of hot dogs or the limits of things that can be cooked on a stick. We sat around the fire and shared stories and jokes until midnight. This was what I wanted out of this trip, I thought.

The early hours of the morning brought the rain that the grey skies had been promising. I just decided to get up, put away my tent and gear and get started on our breakfast. Ben woke as I was getting things taken care of and helped to start our fire. We woke dad, ate our meal and prepared everything for setting out on the river.

We started just ahead of a man and his two young sons. The similarity in the two parties pulled strongly at my heart. During that trip, I felt that Ben and I became like those young boys, looking to our father for adventure and wanting to prove our strength and bravery against the elements.

On the river we took it easy for the first several hours. We spent our time fishing and paddling only when we had to or felt like it. The man and his sons that had started behind us couldn’t help but to catch up with us. They came around a bend we had just gone over where there was a slight rapid over some shallows. The younger of the two boys was in his own kayak and as he passed over that section he excitedly looked back to his father and yelled “HEY, DAD! DID YOU SEE THAT?”

It was a simple question full of depth. He wanted to know that his father had seen him, that his father approved, that his father was aware of the danger he had just braved. There it was again. Affirmation. I needed it, Ben needed it and even my father needed it.

“Did we do a good job setting up the camp?”

“Did you see the fish I caught?

“Am I a good son?”

“Am I a good dad?”

In our lives as men we need to know that our father has seen and knows that we are brave and can handle the many dangers of the wilderness of life. We don’t need to know that we are nice; we need to know that we are like the lion in C. S. Lewis’ stories: "No, he’s not tame... but he’s good."