I almost killed my dad.

Now the situation was not as bad as it sounds, so before you go ahead and judge me, give me a chance to explain myself. Because a series of complicated circumstances lead to this traumatizing yet quite amusing conclusion. Amusing? What? It may be of a surprise why I am taking this event so lightly. I mean, not many people can actually say that they have almost caused someone to resign from their life (or first life, no discrimination against religion here). But there's one important thing we have to remember that keeps me from turning this story into a sad, gloomy, and despairing story. My dad's ok!

It was August of last year, when my whole family and I left the bustling streets of Chicago land to go on an adventure vacation in the calm, mountainous region of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. When I say my whole family, I really mean it. Thirteen members of my extended family all showed up at our huge cabin by the Smoky Mountains, looking like an African mob. We arrived with high expectations on what we were going to do: hike dangerous trails, encounter a bear, or even just kick back in the cabin's relaxing hot tub. There was even an event already planned for the next day. See, my dad's birthday was the next day, and he had always expressed his longing to go white water rafting, so we were going to do just that. I imagined my family racing through the rocks and waterfalls of a speeding river, while the white waters crashed behind us. It sounded scary, but the brochure said it was all family friendly of course, nothing too dangerous, so we were all basically guaranteed safety, right? Nope.

The next day, my family and I found ourselves strapped into a giant blow up raft. We filled up three of the rafts, and I could hear my brother and cousin joking around in another raft about using their paddles to push each other in the water. I smiled, but on the inside I was really nervous. I had volunteered to be in the front of the raft and I was slowly realizing that it was probably not a good idea. Being in the front, I was bound to get the most water on myself, ruining my hair, and my chances with the cute rafting instructor in the back of the boat. But this wasn't about me. As we started down the stream, I turned to my left and saw my dad who looked like he was having the time of his life. He was rowing with vigor and intention, and was smiling from ear to ear. His happiness kept me focused from my distracting nervousness and the rafting instructor's abs.

We were about fifteen minutes into the stream and so far, it wasn't too bad. We hit some minor waves and I had gotten splashed a couple times, but otherwise it was pretty predictable. Just as I had gotten a comfortable rhythm with my paddle, the rafting instructor called out from the back of the raft: "We're about to enter the danger zone! It might get a little bumpy!" A little bumpy was not even the half of it. I could see the waves up ahead. The waters crashed back and forth against the edges of the stream, beckoning us on. My dad was looking at them too, and at one moment we turned to each other and smiled giddily like little children. Here we go! I thought to myself as we entered the violent waves.
The raft moved side to side, dancing along the stream while threatening to dump us into the waters. It went on like this for maybe two minutes when I saw a waterfall ahead of us. Now it wasn't one of those giant drop life endangering waterfalls that you see in the movies. No, this waterfall was much smaller, but still big enough to shake everyone up a bit. I got more and more nervous as we got closer, to the point where I clamped my hands together and started praying. There was no turning back; we were just up to the edge of the waterfall. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn't have to watch, and as I felt our raft fall down I hear my mom yell, "Oh Lord Jesus!" Yes she actually did yell that, I'm not making it up. Sweet Brown must have been around and heard her scream it, because she totally came up with that phrase. As we crashed into the bottom of the waterfall, I felt my body get jerked to the left by the waves and I hit something big. There was a loud yelp, and I opened my eyes just in time to see my dad fall into the powerful waters with a splash. My mouth dropped open as I watched his flailing arms trying to tread the water, while his head bobbed up and down from the waves. My mom's screams from the other raft snapped me back into reality and I turned to the rafting instructor, hoping he would send out a life preserver or maybe even jump in himself. But then I looked over and you know what I saw him doing? Laughing! That's right he was laughing while my father was getting swallowed up by the enormous, life threatening waves. I hate hot guys.
I looked over at my mom’s panicked face she met my eyes with a look of horror. My dad was closer to her, so I gestured to my paddle so that she could use it to reel him in. She looked like she understood what I meant and reached for her paddle. The only problem was that I think she panicked because instead of holding onto the paddle to pull my dad safely onto the raft, she just threw the paddle to him. As soon as she realized what she had done, she clamped her hands to her mouth with surprise. I groaned as the paddle got carried far away into the distance. I began to stand up, preparing to go in after my dad when I saw a small figure out of the corner of my eye. My grandma had gotten up and was pulling out her paddle for my dad to grab onto. With some struggle he managed to get his hands on it. I watched in awe as tiny grandma reeled in my dad, using all of her force and effort to bring him in. He reached the edge of their raft and my uncle and cousins rushed to pull my dad into the raft. I sighed a big sigh of relief when I saw my dad jokingly splash water in my cousin’s face. My heart was still pounding, not only because of what just happened, but because I was the one who accidently shoved him in, and it was his birthday. A sense of realization washed over me, along with guilt and remorse. Dad might not have been so lucky, and it would have been my fault. I sank back into the raft’s ballooned seat and didn’t talk to anyone else the rest of the ride, afraid my shame would reveal itself to the rest of my family.

Later on, when we returned to the cabin and everyone had shaken off the events that had passed not long ago, my godfather posed a question to my dad that gave me the chills: “What even made you fall into the water?” I looked up at my dad as he looked down at my shame-stricken face. This is it, I thought, my secret’s out. I had prayed and prayed that this moment wouldn’t come, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was bound to happen. I had imagined what my dad’s face was going to look like. Would it look disappointed? Shamed? Here was my chance to find out what my dad really thought about what had happened. But my dad simply looked back at my godfather and literally these were his exact words: “I don’t know. It must have been a wave or something.” I love my dad.

What had happened Pigeon Forge taught me two very important lessons. Number one is to never ever come back to Tennessee. And number two is to be thankful for what I have. It’s important to appreciate your loved ones and live a life that is honoring and full all the time, because tomorrow isn’t promised and neither is today. My dad is doing great, if you’re wondering. He is currently taking swimming lessons at the YMCA and is planning a family vacation out to the beaches of Tampa, Florida. We’ll see how that goes.